


A vineyard in Baal-Hamon

by HouseholdReylo



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Concubines, Creepy Snoke (Star Wars), Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Harems, Intoxication, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren Redemption, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Naked Female Clothed Male, No one has sex with Snoke. Gross., Oral Sex, POV Rey, POV Rey (Star Wars), Physical Abuse, Protective Kylo Ren, Punishment, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rey wants to kill Snoke, Scars, Sex, Swordfighting, Swordplay, Tender Sex, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Sex, Virgin Rey (Star Wars), Virginity, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24459019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseholdReylo/pseuds/HouseholdReylo
Summary: Peasant Rey is captured by The Order and brought to King Snoke who likes to oversee as his vineyard is tended by the gardener.AKA: Rey and Kylo Ren are forced to do it.I swear there is plot. 😂DragonWhiskers makes all my beautiful moodboards for me. She's brilliant
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Poe Dameron & Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey & Rose Tico, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 133
Kudos: 196
Collections: ReylOlds





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote out this chapter as a pressure release to a prompt I came up with at 1am after reading The Island Effect. If anyone likes it I will write more chapters. 
> 
> I tagged rape/non-con because these characters are apart of a harem but there is and will not be any violence during sexual acts. There is reference in this chapter to physical abuse (burns) inflicted upon the women and a "maximum punishment" that is not specified. I'm new to anything like this so tell me any tags I should add.
> 
> Also, I'm still a very new writer so any encouraging words you leave me are gobbled up like freshly made chocolate-chip cookies.

Waiting, as it turned out, had been more frightening than the actual abduction. With news traveling through the kingdom that the Knights had fallen, the royal family executed, there had been little they could do and nowhere to go. Those with bows or traps made their way to the forest, hoping to hide, to survive. A few piled into their small fishing boats, trading an eventual drowning for whatever The King’s Order would inflict upon them. Having no earthly possessions, Rey could have easily walked the muddy roads, but to where? This had been the only home she’s lived in, if you could call it living. No. It was better to wait.

After several weeks of spoiled grain and sleepless nights they came. Their presence had brought a relief. Better to know the blade was here, instead of waiting for it to fall at any moment. Would they send her to the fields, trade her like cattle, load her onto a boat and ship her to another world full of different colored skins and languages? She’d heard of a lucky few that were sent to work in the kitchens, the castle staff. Or maybe they’d take one look at her and see she was barely worth the effort of transport. Too skinny. Too fragile. Too plain. Would they even take the effort to bury her body? Or even worse, leave her here to starve, alone.

A thin, tall man with unnaturally white teeth that shine through his red beard paces in front of the lined-up villagers. Guards stand ready to load them into various carts, each with a different destination.

“This one,” he pats down an older man who retains a figure that must have been filled out from hard work in his youth, but whose form has withered from age and lack of nutrition, “Fields.”

He pulls the jaw of the next woman’s mouth open to inspect her teeth. He holds her face pinched between his hand as he turns her head side to side, considering. “Woman, do you cook?” She nods in his hand. “Put her in the cart going back to the camp.” She looks toward the cart for the fields with heartbreak in her eyes as she’s dragged with unnecessary force to the “camp” wagon.

Next, he’s looking at her, and she stands tall, shoulders back, ready to meet her fate. He sweeps the hair on her face to either side, parting the muddy curtain to get a better look at her. His fingers are cold and clammy against her skin. “Well, aren’t you a filthy little thing. Is there a person under all those layers of dirt?” The whites of her eyes contrast her grimy face as they grow wide. The red-haired man abruptly runs his hands down her body, feeling through her rags to trace her feminine features. He steps closer, his body pressed to hers, to run his hands down her back, taking his time to fill his hands with a firm grasp of her ass before removing his hands. “Thin. But maybe after a few proper meals, acceptable.” Turning to a new set of guards, “This one—Castle. I think Maz will want to take a look at her.”

***

“Do you have a name, girl?” An older woman with beady eyes almost completely hidden by the wrinkles covering her face inspects the cart full of men and woman that have just entered the castle courtyard. She’d stepped up into the cart and poked and prodded the girls and boys like she’s picking fruit at the market. Rey had been distracted by the walls that surrounded them, and the armed soldiers positioned every few yards atop those walls. She’d never seen something so big, so grand. It was stone and solid. Immovable. Impenetrable. The older woman grasps her arm firmer, pinching at her flesh, “You will answer me when I speak to you.” Rey looks back at her, unsure what the question was. “Do you have a name?”

She’d had no family that she could remember. No title. No bible with her name and birthday inscribed. Someone at some point must have called her Rey, for that’s all she’d known herself as. “I’m called Rey.”

“Ok, Rey, you’re coming with me.” Rey is pulled off the cart, and she sees that a line of other household staff wait to take their pick from the wagon. This Maz has been given the pick of the litter, and she’s chosen Rey.

Rey is taken to a secluded wing of a large kitchen that smells of yeast, drying herbs, and animal blood. Multiple fireplaces burn with assorted foods roasting or bubbling around them. She’s never seen so much food in her life. In her dreams. The smell causes her mouth to immediately salivate.

Maz takes her to a large basin, and she is instructed to remove her clothing and get in. Rey removes her outer layer and steps inside the empty tub in her shift. As Maz turns around with a large pot of water to dump in she tisks, “You stupid girl. I said remove your clothing.” She hooks the pot back on the metal frame inside the stone hearth and pulls Rey’s last layer off, crumpling it and tossing it into the fire. Rey gasps as the rest of her clothing are also thrown into the flame. Now she truly has nothing.

Maz picks the pot back up with the apron around her waist and pours it in the tub. It’s hot, too hot. Rey can’t help the whine that escape her lips. Maz dips her hand into the water to check the temperature, but her lips stay shut. She dips the pot into a barrel full of water and sets it back in the fire, then fills a bucket with water from the barrel and pours it over Rey. This water is ice cold, and Rey yelps.

Maz alternates between boiling hot or freezing cold additions. Rey sits cross-legged in the basin; her knees pull into her chest as she wraps her arms around them. She’s never had a bath, let alone a warm bath. As the water reaches her waist, she feels her muscles begin to relax. Her curiosity as to what her new role will be within this fortress is put on hold as she exhales into the steam.

Maz begins the process of scrubbing Rey down with a bar of soap perfumed with lavender to mask the rancid scent of animal fat. An abrasive brush is used on every surface of her body, leaving her skin pink and raw. More hot water is poured on her hair, and a small container that has been warming next the fireplace is stirred and then poured into her hair as well. Maz massages Rey’s scalp, and she can’t help but enjoy the feeling.

After another rinse with hot water, Rey is pulled from the tub and placed naked in front of the fire as Maz retrieves a blanket to wrap around her shoulders. She’s instructed to sit on a stool as Maz carefully combs through her hair, muttering approvals for some unknown accomplishment.

When her hair is brushed and braided away from her face, Maz begins to rub an herb-scented oil all over Rey’s body. As she rubs, she inspects every inch of her, squeezing at Rey’s breasts, pinching at her stomach. “Have you laid with a man?” she asks as she rubs the oil into Rey’s back.

A quick breath fills Rey’s lungs as Maz rubs the oil between Rey’s legs. Rey’s voice croaks from lack of use, and she swallows before trying again, “No.” Her stomach drops as it begins to dawn on her why she’s being singled out for this treatment.

“Good. Good.” Rey pulls the blanket back around her shoulders, protecting herself momentarily from her own imagination.

Maz steps out of the nook momentarily, returning with a bowl of warm stew and a chunk of bread. She dips a wooden cup into the barrel and places them all in Rey’s lap. Rey’s stomach growls at the appearance of the food, anxious to be filled. She eats slowly, savoring not only tastes she’s never experienced but the feeling of warm food sliding down her throat, heating her from the inside out. The bread’s crust is crunchy, but the inside is chewy and tangy. She uses it to sap up the fats that float in small circles at the surface of the stew. The small helping is more than enough to satisfy Rey, her stomach unaccustomed to much more than a few bites at a time. She closes her eyes and hums. Her eyes fly open. Is this the feast before the slaughter?

It’s hard not to let her guard down, to give into the illusion that all is well. Clean, warm, fed. She’s never experienced all these pleasures of the body at once. She’s never been taken care of before. It feels good.

After taking Rey’s dishes, Maz takes the blanket from Rey’s shoulders and spreads it on the ground, moving her stool to the side. “Lay down.” Confused about what is coming next but too scared to question, she does as she’s told. “Put your feet together and spread your legs apart.” Rey hesitantly puts her legs in the requested position but Maz pushes them apart further until Rey is fully exposed. Rey watches in horror as Maz reaches for a blade, sharpening it on the leather strap bolted to the wall. She begins to squirm and sit up but Maz assures her, “I’m not going to hurt you, dear. Lay back down.” Obedient, Rey rests her shoulders on the blanket, the cold, hard floor pressing into her back. Maz scoots herself between Rey’s legs, the oil and blade at her side. “I run a clean household, and I won’t have an outbreak of fleas or lice under my watch. It’s best to shave it all.” Rey’s eyes look down at her curls, the only thing she has left to hide behind, everything else exposed to the chill castle air. Maz coats the coarse hair and Rey’s skin in oil and begins to scrape the blade carefully across the skin. She holds the skin taught as she pulls the knife against the hair, wiping the blade on her apron occasionally.

Once she is hairless, stripped completely bare, Maz dips the edge of her apron in the tub and uses it to clean off her knife. Removing her apron, full of Rey’s hair, and folding it to rest on the floor, she allows Rey to stand and wrap herself back in the blanket. Motioning for Rey to follow her, she marches with purpose back through the busy kitchen. As she walks, Rey notices the strange sensation, the breeze, that now passes between her legs.

Maz takes her to a small room stacked with linens and hands her a beige shift that Rey slides over her head. Maz takes the blanket, folding it back up. She opens a wooden trunk and pulls out a plain blue dress and a pair of slip-on leather shoes, handing them to Rey. Rey examines her armful. She’s never felt fabric this soft or worn anything so finely made. “This will do for now, until he decides what you will wear.”

Maz turns to walk down the corridor and the question that has been building in Rey’s mind slips out, “Who? Who will decide what I wear?”

Looking like she’s forgotten to invite the guest of honor to the party, “Why dear, the King.”

Almost dropping the bundle she holds, Rey almost shouts, “King Snoke?”

“But of course, dear. He’s been requesting a new girl.” Maz continues down the hall, Rey following. So that’s it. Her fate. There’s something comforting about it being settled. No more a question. At least she’ll live. For now. Until he tires of her and wants a new girl.

Taking her through the halls of the castle, up twisting, narrow staircases, a maze that she could never remember, she’s led to a large wooden door with several locks and two armed soldiers on either side. Maz pulls keys from inside her bosom, attached to a long chain that hangs around her neck, and faces Rey. “My rules are simple: You will be well cared for if you are obedient. You have a warm bed, a full belly, and safety if you do as you are told. Do you understand?”

Rey nods her head, her eyes down. All the things she’s ever wanted are being handed to her, but at what cost?

Turning to look at the guards on either side of the door, to emphasize her next point, “If you disobey me, or his Majesty, you will be punished.” Rey nods quickly, the word “Majesty” lingering in her head. Will he be cruel? Will he hurt her? Maz takes a moment to look Rey over, lifting her chin to look into her eyes. “It’s ok to be frightened for now, but I promise, you can live a good life here.” As a pet.

Maz turns back to the door, arranging the keys in her hand, before looking back at Rey, “You will learn all my rules in time, but this is rule number one,” Maz’s voice changes, deeper and intense, “you are _not_ to touch any man unless directed to, and they may not touch you. It is forbidden and will result in the maximum punishment.” Rey nods again. Maximum punishment. Maz’s demeanor relaxes. She turns back toward the door, working the keys in the locks, the final bolt releasing as she puts a hand on the knob. “Welcome home, Rey.” Maz pushes the door open to reveal a room with a dozen or so beds lining the walls, and several women all turn to look toward the open door. Oh. There are more.

Rey steps into the room, and Maz shuts the door behind her. The sound of the locks clicking into place echoes in the room, the cage, before anyone dares to speak.

The girls approach Rey like she’s a lost fawn, taking careful, slow steps, so as not to scare her off. They break off, making sure one of them is stationed in front of each of the three windows, in case Rey decides to bolt.

A small, full-hipped girl steps away from the pack, “I’m Rose. What’s your name?” She reaches a hand out to touch Rey’s shoulder, but Rey flinches away. “That’s ok.” Rose pulls her hand back, letting it rest at her side. “Can I help you with your dress?”

Rey looks down at her arms, the dress, the shoes. Rose tries again, taking the shoes off the top, handing them to a girl behind her, careful not to touch Rey. Rose pulls the dress out of Rey’s hands and gathers up the fabric. “I’m going to put this over your head. Can you lift your arms up for me?” Rey lifts her arms and ducks down so the shorter woman can reach her head. Once the dress falls over Rey, Rose circles behind, “I’m going to pull your fastenings tight now.” Rey stays still, letting her. Rose is nice. Rey likes her.

Rey doesn’t speak, but the rest of the girls introduce themselves before resuming their conversations or activities throughout the room. Rose stays and shows Rey to an empty bed. “You can take this one, it’s next to mine.” Rey sits on the mattress, and Rose sits opposite her. “It’s not so bad, really, as long as you follow the rules.” Rose pulls her sleeves down over her left wrist, but not before Rey notices two precise burn marks. “You’ll never be hungry again,” Rose offers up as some consolation. Rey touches her stomach, the usual pain that she’s always felt there is gone. “If there is anything you want, all you have to do is ask Maz. Do you know how to read? We have books.” Rey shakes her head “no.” “Oh! I could teach you, if you want.” Rey shrugs her shoulders. She’s never had any use for reading. It’s hard to imagine she would have any use now. Rey looks at her hands in her lap, before turning to lay on her bed, away from Rose. “Ok. Well, I’m here if you ever want to talk. We all look out for each other.”

Rey stays in her bed the rest of the evening, undisturbed. There is a general understanding from the group that she just needs some time. They were all new once, it’s not easy. She doesn’t get up when the maidens are escorted to dinner, her stomach still full from her previous meal. The exhaustion of the last few days sitting in the wagon, and the softness of a real down mattress, captures Rey, and she’s pulled into a dreamless sleep. She only wakes once as a quilt is pulled around her shoulders.

In the morning, Maz sits at the foot of her bed, her words waking Rey, “Rule number two: you will come to every meal. I’m giving you a pass for last night, but you will be punished if you skip a meal again.” Maz pushes herself off the mattress, “He’ll want to see you tonight.”

Rey twists around on the bed, sitting up with a start at this news. “Calm down. He’ll just inspect you. You need some new dresses, but he’ll want to look at your coloring before placing the order.” Rey uses the thought of the dresses to distract herself from the idea of being presented -- in what state, she doesn’t know -- before the King. She’s never owned two of anything.

The girls are allowed time to roam the grounds for an hour after breakfast and an hour after their mid-day meal. It takes Rey the full hour to walk along the entire wall. There are beautiful flower gardens, fruit trees, cats chasing mice. If it weren’t for the weight pressing on her chest, keeping her from taking a full breath, it would be lovely. Her stomach feels uncomfortably full. More food than she’d see in a week was heaped upon her plate. She’d barely made a dent. The walk helped, the exercise clearing the fog in her head.

A horn is blown, and Rey follows rule number three: report to the courtyard when hearing the call. “Did you have a nice walk?” Rey nods at her feet. “My sister, Paige, and I used to walk the wall.”

Looking up at Rose, “Used to?”

Realizing she’s given away more than she intended, “Oh, yes.” Rose’s face turn grim, “Paige didn’t follow the rules.” No more information is divulged as the girls are led back to their room. Rey can only assume Paige received the maximum punishment.

***

“Tonight he wants Violet, Marigold, and Iris.” Maz stands at the door waiting for the girls to line up. They’ve changed from their gowns to flowing silk robes, each girl in a different color. “And you,” Maz looks over to Rey, sitting next to a window. Rey’s feet feel like lead, and she makes her way to the door.

Their slippers shuffle against the stone floor as they walk single-file down the hall, a row of baby ducks following their waddling mamma.

Maz uses the ornate knocker to announce her presence. “You may enter,” a slimy voice responds. As they file in, Rey takes in the room décor. She’s been entranced by the tapestries, engravings, rugs, and flags around the castle, but she’s unprepared for the ostentatiousness of the room. It’s an assault on her eyes. It makes her feel nauseous. She looks down at the carpet, focusing on the image of a man losing his bow while riding his horse, a doe running from the arrow.

“You’ve brought me a new flower,” the male voice glides through the words. “Bring her to me.” A hand takes Rey’s arm, but she keeps her eyes on the carpet, following the story that unfolds. The doe is pierced by the arrow, blood pouring from her wound. The doe thrashes, still alive, as the hounds encircle her. The hunter dismounts and fires another arrow, this time to the heart. As Rey is placed in front of a wooden chair, claws carved into the feet, she sees the final scene to the drama. The hunter rides away, the doe tied to the rump of his horse, her eyes Xs, her tongue hangs out of her mouth, and the hounds follow behind.

“Mhm, not bad, not bad at all.” Rey feels his eyes on her, and her skin crawls. “Turn around for me, my pet.” The command drips from his lips. “Slowly.”

After turning completely around, the voice calls for Maz. “White. I want her in white, with--lift your head, my pet. Let me see your eyes.” Rey lifts her gaze to find a hollowed face, a large scar running the length of his wide forehead. He wears a gold robe and lounges in his cushioned chair. “Ah, there you are.” He stands and steps close to Rey, but not touching her, looking deep into her eyes.

Rey does everything she can not to focus on the face in front of her, his wet breath on her skin. As she focuses on the space behind the King, she notices a large man stands in shadow. He’s huge, and he wears all black, a menacing look across his features. He must be the King’s personal guard.

“I see embers in those eyes, my dearest. You won’t give me any trouble, will you?” His tone is sickly sweet. He still doesn’t lay a finger on her but traces her face with his hands. Rey moves her head, hardly a shake, but enough to appease the King. “Good. Good.” He sits back down on his throne. “I’m naming you Daisy.” He pops a date into his mouth. “Dismissed.” He spits the seed into a silver dish. Maz takes Rey’s arm. “A yellow ribbon in her hair,” he adds while grabbing for another dried fruit.

As Rey is led from the room a girl is instructed to lay on the bed. She sheds her robe and lays on the many embroidered pillows. Rey can’t help her curiosity. She’s never seen a naked body besides her own. The girl’s nipples are larger and darker than hers, her stomach fuller and her thighs thicker. They do eat well here. Before she crosses the threshold to the hallway, the muscular man that had stood behind the king crawls onto the bed. The door shuts as he wraps his arms around the woman and kisses her passionately into the duvet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are enjoying this fic, I’d love if you gave another one of my works a read.
> 
> [ Yoga Is For Hippies ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23782273/chapters/57129187): Professional golfer Kylo Ren/Ben Solo finds a cute little yoga instructor to help him loosen his hips. Explicit. 23 Chapters. COMPLETE (My first fic!) 
> 
> [Stage Kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934285/chapters/60347938): High school theater kids AU set in the year 2000 with lots of teenage drama/angst. Explicit. 
> 
> [Recollection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26609530/chapters/64880041): Ben Solo has been missing, presumed dead, for over ten years. While shopping for her son's birthday dinner, Rey sees a ghost from her past. Explicit. (Calling all passengers for the Pain Train. Whoot-whoot)
> 
> Come say hello on Twitter! [HouseholdReylo](https://twitter.com/HouseholdReylo)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey gets a front row seat to Kylo Ren's performance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the first chapter sorta as a lark for the girls but 31 people left Kudos so...I guess we'll see where this goes. Honestly, I've been thinking about this story a lot and I have some really fun ideas for the future. @reylosongstress is basically co-writing this story with me, she's more than just a beta. Let me know if you like this chapter, it will inspire me to write another one.
> 
> If you are enjoying this fic, I’d love if you gave another one of my works a read.
> 
> [ Yoga Is For Hippies ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23782273/chapters/57129187): Professional golfer Kylo Ren/Ben Solo finds a cute little yoga instructor to help him loosen his hips. Explicit. 23 Chapters. COMPLETE (My first fic!) 
> 
> [Stage Kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934285/chapters/60347938): High school theater kids AU set in the year 2000 with lots of teenage drama/angst. Explicit. 
> 
> [Recollection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26609530/chapters/64880041): Ben Solo has been missing, presumed dead, for over ten years. While shopping for her son's birthday dinner, Rey sees a ghost from her past. Explicit. (Calling all passengers for the Pain Train. Whoot-whoot)
> 
> Come say hello on Twitter! [HouseholdReylo](https://twitter.com/HouseholdReylo)

The dresses are folded and waiting for her when she returns from her morning walk around the grounds. Everyone busies themselves with various activities: painting, embroidery, etching, while Rey stands over her bed and thumbs through the neat pile. They are all various shades of white, and Rey wonders if each hue has its own name. She fights the excitement that bubbles in her chest at the idea of clean, new dresses tailored just for her, reminding herself what the exchange for these gifts would be.

The first dress is an egg-colored, simple linen dress with a long pleated skirt and a spiral laced bodice. Rey fingers the silk-covered metal eyelets that the laces run through. She’s never owned silk anything. This one comes with a white blouse to be worn underneath. It’s plain, and she already knows she’ll feel the most comfortable in this one. Folding it back up with less precision than she’d found it, she starts a new pile on the bed.

The next dress has full, puffed sleeves fastened with cords at the shoulders, with the lacing running up the back. This one is the color of crème and the fabric is thicker, almost furry, to Rey’s touch. She’s never seen fabric like this before. Rey holds this one up to herself and notices how deep the square neckline is. The pale-yellow lace sewn around the neckline will do little to cover her modest bosoms. Rey lays this one on the bed, her fingers trailing grooves into the fabric as they trace across it once more.

The last dress shimmers in the sunlight that filters through the windows. The satin has paisleys woven throughout it with a drop waist outlined with yellow ribbon that falls open at the bottom of the dress revealing a silk underskirt. The sleeves open like tulips above her wrist and end at her knees with a band of matching yellow ribbon above each elbow. The neckline is wide, and Rey wonders how she’ll keep the smooth fabric from skipping off her shoulders.

Letting this dress pool around itself as she sets it aside, Rey finds the last item on the bed, a pile of sheer silk. There’s no point in examining it, she’s seen it on the other girls, except hers has no color and is the purest of whites among her garments.

***

Maz joins the maids who bring the afternoon meal to their room. “You’ll be staying in your room for the rest of the day. The Order has assembled.” Maz takes a kettle from one of the maids and sets it on a dresser while she pulls a bulging cheesecloth, tied off with string, from somewhere in her folds of fabric. She lifts the lid to the kettle and pushes the sack slowly into the hot water, steam rising up in curls while she waits for the water to soak through to the contents. Replacing the lid and leaving the mixture to seep, Maz turns her attention back to the room. “While The Order is here you will not have the same access to the grounds as you would normally be pleasured to. Those who have been with us a while can explain the protocols that we keep in place while they are here. They should only be here a few days, and I know you’ll be good girls.”

The girls murmur among themselves while Rey sits timidly on her bed, huddled at the headboard, her knees pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped around her shins. There’s a general curiosity about this new arrival from several of the girls, not just Rey. The Order must come infrequently enough that many girls are unaware of the “protocols.” Once again, fear of another unknown creeps over Rey’s skin.

While the girls eat lunch, Maz circles the room with the kettle and a cup. She pours a serving for each girl, waiting for them to finish it and hand back the cup before moving to the next girl. Rey eyes the tea with trepidation when it’s put in front of her face.

“For the womb.” Rey’s eyes widen as they look up from the cup to study Maz’s face. What exactly does this do for her womb? “To prevent conception.”

Oh. They wouldn’t want anyone with child. No bastard children of the King. Rey empties the contents into her mouth and swallows. Maz moves on to the next bed.

“It’s just a precaution,” Rose sets a plate of food at Rey’s feet and plops down on her own bed, hiking up her dress to sit cross-legged. Rey looks to Maz, wondering if she’ll be reprimanded for sitting so unladylike, but Maz is too distracted administering to her patients. Rose rips a bite from her roll as golden flakes litter her lap. “He doesn’t let them finish inside.” She breaks off a section of cheese from the plate on her bed, “Usually.” The cheese joins the bread she’s still working to chew.

Rey’s mind is spinning as she looks at Rose’s plate of food, her brows scrunched together and a frown forming on her face. “Them?” Rey’s eyes follow an apple Rose lifts from her plate and brings to her lips.

“Yes, _them_.” Rey’s gaze makes the jump to Rose’s relaxed eyes. "He has more than one proxy.” Rose bites into her apple, sucking to keep the juices from dripping down her hand. “There’s three right now, but sometimes it’s more, sometimes less.”

“Proxy?” The glimpse she’d gotten the night before starts to make more sense. She’s learning more rules to the game. Rey watches Rose enjoy her food and looks down at her own plate wondering why it doesn’t hold the same appeal.

Turning her apple in her hand to bring new flesh to her lips, “Snoke doesn’t ever touch us. He gets some kind of weird pleasure from watching someone else play with us, or _tend his garden_ ,” she mockingly quotes a term the King must have used while rolling her eyes.

Rey pulls her roll open, exposing the soft white pillow beneath the firm exterior, still not hungry but remembering Maz’s second rule, going through the motion to avoid punishment. “Are they,” Rey tries to swallow the bread down her dry throat, but it sticks, so she lubricates it with a sip of water from the cup on the table between their two beds, “like us?”

“Sexual slaves?” Rey is shocked at Rose’s blatant description of their circumstance. She looks up around the room and realizes that Maz has left and they may speak freely without fear of punishment. Still, it feels dangerous to be discussing these things out loud. “Yes. They are prisoners of the war.”

Rey lowers her voice, tentative to ask her next question, “Why don’t they try and escape?” Rey thinks back to the brooding figure in the shadows behind Snoke’s chair. He hadn’t been restrained. There were no guards in the room, though there were plenty between the King’s chambers and freedom. Still, she suspected he could have easily snapped the feeble man’s neck and made his way through several guards before being captured or killed. Rey could see the tradeoff being worth it, her life to end Snoke’s. She’s not there yet, but imagining what her future holds makes the exchange feel justifiable.

“Us.” Rose bites at her apple, calm, knowledgeable, rehearsing the facts. She talks like someone who’s already gone through all the escape options, poked at all the chinks in the armor, pulled at every loose thread, and come up short. She holds the apple in her teeth and pulls up both sleeves, turning her arms over to reveal the delicate skin. Both arms are covered with scars up to her elbow. Taking the apple out with one hand she points to her right arm, “These are mine,” switching the apple to the other hand, “and these are theirs.”

“Punishments,” Rey whispers.

“Uh, huh. So, if you’re planning anything exciting, run it by me first.” Rose rips the last of the apple from its core and sets it on her plate. “I’ve probably already tried it.” Rey’s shoulders sag like the last ounce of hope holding her muscles up have left her. Rose notices Rey’s defeated demeaner. “Don’t worry, I might still have a few tricks up my sleeves.” She winks at Rey as she tugs her sleeves back down.

Rey studies Rose. The embers of life are barely still warm in her own soul, yet this small girl in front of her, who has been through much more, her fire is still ablaze. How does she do it?

Moving the food around on her plate, “So, the proxies?” Rey probes, her eyebrows lifting as she looks over at Rose. “Do they hurt you?”

Rose shakes her head. “No” would be coming out of her mouth but the apple just turns it into “mmm, mmm, mmm.” She swallows half the fruit in her mouth. “They only hurt us when we need to be punished, and Maz does that.” Rose finishes chewing and swallows, putting her pinkie in her mouth to pick at food in her teeth. “It might hurt a little the first time, but they’ll do everything in their power to make sure you’re ready. Snoke wants us to feel good.” Rose turns to lock eyes with Rey, emphasizing her point, “He likes a show.”

More pages to add to the rule book. The Lord doesn’t touch his possessions, he uses substitutes, and he takes pains to make sure his garden is properly cultivated. “Do you…pretend?” She had heard that the act could be pleasurable for some women. She’s heard the cries of lovemaking in the night before, but with no experience, Rey has no idea how to put on a show for the king.

Rose considers the question, pressing the crumbs of the soft cheese on her plate into her finger, “Sometimes.” She sucks the cheese off her pointer finger, her eyes glazing over in a memory, her finger a bit too long in her mouth before she pulls it with a “pop,” “But usually there is no need to pretend, especially with Kylo.”

“Kylo?” Rey is slightly appalled as Rose’s cheeks flush.

“Marigold says he was the proxy last night.” Rey remembers the bear of a man crawling on top of the redhead. Had she screamed at his touch while the king watched with approval? The few bites of food in her stomach turn into lead. Will she be punished if she doesn’t _perform_ well enough? Rey rubs absently on the unblemished skin from her wrist to her elbow, taking in the feeling before it’s permanently marked. “Dark hair, broad shoulders, brooding mountain. Ring a bell?” Rose leans to the side, trying to catch Rey’s absent eyes.

Rey thinks of the forlorn block that had stood pinned to the wall. His gaze had been frightening and she hadn’t let her eyes linger on him too long. He’d crawled slowly on top of Marigold, a predator claiming his prey. Rey wonders what the weight of someone that large would feel like on top of her.

Suddenly she can’t take a full breath; there’s a weight on her chest keeping her lungs from expanding. She starts to rock back and forth on the bed, tiny gasps of air making a choking noise in her throat. Rose jumps from her bed and swings Rey’s legs to the edge of the mattress. She pulls Rey’s shoulders to meet her knees, her face looking down at the ground.

“Breathe, Daisy.” Her voice is commanding but reassuring, maternal. It feels like she is suffocating, and the panic sends her spiraling. She’s going to die. Right here. Right now. Disappointment floods her thoughts as she realizes she’ll die and it still won’t mean anything. To anyone. Maybe this kind girl next to her might mourn her corpse. At least they’re more likely to bury her now. She hopes someday, someone will snap Snoke’s neck, even if she isn’t here to see it.

“I’m going to breathe with you.” Rose takes Rey’s right hand and holds it to her chest. “Feel me breathe. In.” Rey feels Rose’s chest expand. “Out.” It sinks. “In.” She listens as Rose sucks in air. “Out.” Rose’s breath moves the loose strands of Rey’s hair across her face. With her other hand, Rose places Rey’s left hand on her own chest. “Feel the air come in.” They breathe together and both of Rey’s hands feel their chests expand. “Let the air out.” Their breath leaves their lips with a “woosh.” They stay like this for several minutes, in and out, in and out, feeling their bodies take in the life-granting elements and exhale the poisonous ones.

Rose releases Rey’s hands and rubs a path back and forth across Rey’s shoulders, “That’s it. You’re ok. You’re ok.”

***

Rey sits by the window for hours, watching cats chase mice, birds rest atop the wall, and rabbits steal from the gardens, all with more freedom than her. Her brain is still a bit hazy from the few minutes of air deprivation. Her body hums with nerves, and tears fall into her lap without feeling them trail down her cheeks.

Rose sets a plate of food on the stone of the window box. Rey picks at it to be obedient, but it all tastes like clay.

After dinner the maids come to the room with basins of warm water, soap, and washing cloths. While they empty the chamber pots, stoke the fireplaces, and collect the dirty linens, the girls get to work cleaning themselves. Rey watches their bodies in the firelight, many of the women not shy about removing all their clothing to get the job done. Rey takes in the variety of shapes, colors, and size. Quite the collection.

Maz enters the room and lists the names that will be accompanying her to _his_ quarters tonight. Those called slip into their matching silk robes while the rest pull on their sleeping gowns, brushing out their hair before re-braiding it for the night.

It’s all soundless to Rey, as if she has mud in her ears. Maz walks over to Rey, her mouth moving, her expression irritated. She looks up at the women, unable to read the word she keeps repeating with her mouth. Maz grabs Rey’s arm, and her sense returns. “Daisy! If I have to call you again you’ll be punished.”

Maz leads Rey to her bed, lifting the lid to the trunk at the foot. Shifting the contents, she pulls out the white silk robe, laying it across the bed. She turns Rey around and begins to unloose the lacings. She pulls it down to the floor and Rey watches her feet as they step out of the dress. Maz fold up the dress and puts it back in the trunk. She reaches for the hem of Rey’s shift and, in one fluid motion, pulls it over Rey’s head, Rey’s arms instinctively lifting to release the garment. Maz crumples the shift and tosses it in the pile of dirty clothes. Maz takes the robe off the bed and pulls it up each of Rey’s arms, resting it on her shoulders and spinning her back around. The front is folded over her naked breast and the sash tied about her waist, pinching as Maz releases some of her irritation in pulling the bow tight.

The final detail is added as Maz pulls a yellow ribbon from another fold in her dress and ties it onto the end of Rey’s braid.

Rey had watched all of this as if she were an animal that had never wore clothes before, unable to anticipate the next step and surprised when her body had moved as it was supposed to. It’s not until they are sweeping through the halls that Rey wakes up from her hypnosis, the realization of what’s happening sucking air from her chest. Rey takes her hand and places it between her breasts. _In. Out. In. Out._

_***_

Rey stands taller than the first time she’d entered the room. The earlier assurance from Rose that she wouldn’t be hurt running over and over through her mind. Rey has the opportunity to take in more of the room. Intricately carved, dark-stained wood panels line the bottom half of the walls, the arches and recesses as tall as Rey. The top half of the wall is covered in tapestries depicting battles, gods and goddesses, and the only story Rey recognizes, Christ with his apostles at the last supper. The vaulted arched ceiling is painted to look like the stars, constellations emphasized in yellow against the navy blue.

The bed is large, big enough for several people. A crown canopy hovers above the headboard, gold fabric gathered and bunched around it while more gold spills like a veil around the top of the bed. The linens are red with matching gold embellishments, and Rey resists the urge to run her fingers through the tassels that hang off the corners of the bedspread.

Rey stops her casual inventory of the room when her eyes land on the chair Snoke had sat in the night before. Without him in it she can see the fabric on the back depicts its own story. This one has a horned man gripping a screaming, thrashing woman as a chariot, pulled by black horses, carries them into a wall of fire. Angels reach and cry for the stolen woman while demons grab at the chariot, pulling it further into the flames. The heads of dogs are carved into the arm rests while flames lick up the wood along the frame of the chair. Truly, a throne for the devil himself.

Maz arranges the girls in a line at the foot of the bed and then leaves as if she has more pressing matters to attend to. Two other girls accompany Rey tonight: Marigold again, she must be a favorite, and a blond girl with skin so pale Rey can see the blue veins that snake her neck and wrists. The girl is stiff and fidgety, like Rey, but Marigold just leans against the foot of the bed, scraping grime from under her fingernails.

Snoke enters from a different entrance hidden in the wood panels, the door slamming open with a bang. “My dears, I apologize for keeping you waiting. I had some pressing matters to discuss with our recent guests.” He sweeps into the room, still in his daywear, a gold-trimmed cloak billowing in his footsteps. He slides into his seat positioned a few feet away from the foot of the bed, an audience of one for the private performances that play out before him. “Marigold, my beautiful flower, so good to see you tonight. I do hope you are well rested from last evening.”

“Quite, my lord.” Marigold lifts herself up to sit on the top of the mattress, leaning back on her elbows and crossing her legs so the robe falls away from her lower half. Rey is intrigued at how Marigold plays the game, taking note of how she manages to wield power in a room with the most powerful man in the land.

“Did you receive my gift, darling?” Snoke’s eyes trace along Marigold’s long legs as she rocks them, still crossed, back and forth, one foot resting on the footboard.

“Yes. I’m drawing you a new portrait. It should be done by the end of the week.” Marigold continues to play her hand with expertise, biting her bottom lip and narrowing her eyes at the king.

“Excellent, I can’t--.”

The same small door slams open again as Kylo ducks to enter the room.

“Kylo! Wonderful. Now the party can begin.” Kylo doesn’t speak, only nodding to the king, waiting for instruction as he stands with his left hand griping the wrist of his fisted right hand.

The king pours himself a glass of wine from the decanter on the side table next to him. “Let’s pick back up where we were last night.” He smiles in anticipation as the glass reaches his lips.

Kylo moves to the foot of the bed with few footsteps. Rey shifts herself to put as much space between her and Kylo as she can before bumping into the pale girl. Kylo clears his throat and looks from Rey and the blond back to the king. Catching his meaning, the king pulls his wine glass away from his lip as he reaches out toward the two girls with is free hand. “Come, my treasures, stand here, next to me.” He nods to his left. “I want you to pay special attention.” He motions with his glass toward Kylo and Marigold while the girls take quick footsteps away from the bed, Rey’s eyes downcast to avoid his face. “Eyes up, love. These are my prized horses. They are meant to be admired.” He turns to Rey at his side and looks into her eyes, “And learned from.” Rey gulps, nodding her understanding.

Kylo takes this as his cue to begin. With a swift movement he uncrosses Marigold’s legs and pulls her ass to the edge of the bed, a yip escaping her lips in surprise. Her robe drips down the footboard like a waterfall reflecting the orange setting sun. Kylo stands, fully dressed, pressed between her legs, keeping her sex hidden from Rey’s view.

With one hand firmly pressed into Marigold’s thigh, he wraps his arm around her waist to sit her up, her arms wrapping around his neck. She hooks her legs around his waist as she fists her hands into his black hair to pull him to her for a rough, and desperate kiss. The hand on Marigold’s thigh rubs higher till it finds the crease at her hipbone. The hand around her waist slides across the silk to the front and he breaks away from her kiss to pull the bow lose.

Rey watches with bated breath as Kylo moves his hands to either of Marigold’s shoulders, rubbing his hands up and down her arms while only the valley between her breast and her bellybutton peak through the orange curtain. Kylo takes his time, trailing a finger up and down the exposed skin, some unspoken communication taking place between them as Marigold sticks her chest out, arching her back, stretching the fabric against her breasts, in response.

Rey is horrified when she realizes she’s anxious for him to keep going, to nudge the fabric off Marigold’s shoulders with a small swipe of his fingers so Rey can see her naked breasts. Rey catches a quick glance at the king and knows this anticipation is for his benefit. She files this information away for future use. It’s appalling, but she’s grateful for the chance to learn a few things-- apparently from the best-- before it’s her turn. Her turn. She’d gotten so wrapped up in the last few moments that she’d momentarily forgotten it will soon be her turn. _In. Out. In. Out._

Kylo punctures the building tension and slides the robe off Marigold’s shoulders, unwrapping a gift for the king. It gathers at her hips and her breasts take center stage.

They’re huge.

Rey had noticed that Marigold was a healthy weight, curvier than her, the night before, but taking her in now, Rey is stunned. They’re like melons.

As if she could hear her thoughts, Marigold looks down at her own breasts and then over Kylo’s shoulder with a sly smile at Rey. Kylo dives for her breasts, his hands cradling each, nowhere near being able to cup them fully in each hand, like Rey can do with her own breasts. While he paws, kisses, and sucks his way around them, Marigold makes the appropriate moans and groans, her fingers brushing over the three french braids on the top of Kylo’s head before holding his shoulders, all the while shooting Rey a smug look that says, “I dare you.”

Rey feels like she’s just be slapped across the face.

That bitch.

A firm breath is blown into the embers inside her chest, and they turn a glowing red.

Marigold moves her hands to Kylo’s face and presses a kiss to his forehead before pulling him down, flexing her position further. Kylo leaves a trail of kisses between her breasts, down her stomach, and turning to kiss at her inner thighs. Marigold throws her head back, letting her mane of auburn hair shake free of its loose braid as a growl escapes her lips.

Kylo pushes her thighs wider apart, knocking them into the mattress as he kneels before her center. Rey now has a perfect view of her matching curls. Marigold raises a suggestive eyebrow when she catches Rey staring at her pink folds. Rey averts her eyes and searches for something else to focus on while Kylo nips and lick his way up one thigh and down the other while Marigold yips and purrs.

“So well done, my pets. You perform so nicely for your master.”

Rey snaps her attention back to Snoke who relaxes in his chair, refilling his wine, and she remembers this isn’t a private moment between lovers but a showcase of the king’s prized stallion and mare.

The anticipation builds again as Kylo ministers to every inch of skin on Marigold’s thighs and stomach but doesn’t touch her core. He’s like a horse, stomping and pacing before the gate is opened to let him run.

There’s a moment where Kylo’s lips leave Marigold and everything stills, her moans silent as they all wait for the master to lift the latch.

“You have permission to touch her.” The king takes a sip and sets the glass on the table.

Kylo trails one hand up her thigh to rub his thumb from her opening, up through her folds and then retraces the path back as he pushes his thumb into her center. Marigold takes a sharp breath, her eyes rolling back, her jaw dropping as she holds herself up with both hands on the mattress.

He pulls his thumb out to trace the slick back to circle her clit. One of Marigold’s hands reaches for Kylo’s shoulder, her nails digging into his skin, her breath quickened and short. Kylo repeats this move several times, dipping his thumb and then painting her folds with her own ink. Marigold’s hips start to lift to meet his hand every time he presses inside, begging him to go deeper.

Kylo removes his hands and places them on her hips to stop her cantering. Once she catches her breath and places her hand back on the bed, Kylo uses both thumbs to pull her folds apart. Rey gasps as he licks the same path his thumb had massaged. She’d assumed touching was involved with the act, but it had never occurred to her that he’d put his mouth on her.

“Getting jealous my pet?” Snoke looks up at Rey, “Patience, my dear. You’ll get your turn.”

Kylo and Marigold continue on like they don’t have an audience, like professionals. When his face disappears in her curls both of her hands grasp his shoulders for support, her knees locking him into her grip.

Rey can’t see exactly what he does to her, but she appears to enjoy it. Immensely.

Marigold’s screams grow louder and louder. Her head flings back again, red curls fully free of their braid as several rest on her giant swells. Kylo pushes Marigold’s knees back apart and Rey can see him slide two fingers inside Marigold’s dripping cunt before reattaching his mouth to her clit. He pumps harder and she grips his head, pulling him closer to her. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Her legs start to tremble, and she wraps them around his shoulders for support, her breath leaving her in gasps on every exhale as Rey watches his arm work faster. Marigold’s gasps turn to whimpers and she’s almost sobbing for release. Rey feels the pressure building in the room, her own cunt clenching around nothing. Rey does her best to calm her growing arousal, disgusted with herself. She tries deep breaths, but it’s hard not to get wrapped into the sounds and smells that are filling her senses, like pheromones fine tuning her body to the same frequency.

Marigold snaps, her voice one long, piercing note. Kylo’s arm slows but doesn’t stop, pushing in and holding a few seconds before another, slower thrust. “Fuck! Fuck! Yes! Kylo!” Her ankles uncross and fall limp on either side of him. Her hips stutter and her back arches as he lifts his face and pushes in one final time.

Rey gets a glimpse of her swollen, drenched pussy before Kylo wipes his face with his hand and stands, blocking her view. Rey takes stalk of her own physical status and realizes she’s close to leaking herself. Marigold lets herself fall flat onto the mattress, giving herself a moment to catch her breath while she wraps herself back in her robe and ties the bow.

When Marigold jumps down, flipping her hair over her shoulder, she kisses Kylo on his statuesque cheek while leveling Rey with her most condescending smile. Used to being beaten and broken by life, Rey had never been one to challenge an alpha personality, but for some reason, this whore, who has decided to exercise her dominance over Rey, makes her blood boil. Rey holds her chin high and shoots daggers back at Marigold. Whatever _this_ is between them, she’s not going to just cower and take it, not from her.

Snoke claps like red curtains are being pulled closed on a stage, and he dismisses Marigold for a job well done. She skips from the room, turning to look over her shoulder at Kylo, and kisses the air.

With Marigold gone, Rey’s attention is back on Kylo. He stands unmoving, his hands back with one hand gripping above his fist. A solider, ready for his next order. She can’t help but stare at his red lips, darkened from use, curious as to what he’d done to elicit those noises from the redhead. 

Her eyes drift slowly down his body stopping at the giant bulge in his pants. She quickly looks back at the floor. Honestly, Rey is surprised. She thought there would be _more._ She thought she’d see _more._

The blond shifts next to her, and Rey remembers her presence for the first time since Kylo had started touching _her._

“Camellia, my sweet,” Snoke swivels in his chair to lean forward and look at the blond on the other side of Rey, “I believe it’s your turn.”

Right. There is more. Act two.

Camellia doesn’t move. Rey looks at her and sees that her skin is almost green. She’s shaking. For the first time since arriving at the castle, Rey stops worrying about her own fate and focuses on the terrified creature next to her.

“You can do it, my bud. It’s your turn to blossom,” Snoke encourages but she is still frozen on the spot.

His oily tone hardens slightly, “Camellia. Now.”

Kylo looks up, his eyes flickering between Snoke and the girl about to vibrate out of her own skin. He steps forward and stretches out his hand to her.

“It’s ok. He won’t hurt you,” Snoke croons like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Camellia reaches her hand out for Kylo who takes it and holds it between both his hands, steading her, absorbing her trembles. He looks down at her with soft eyes, assuring her that he will be delicate. She takes a step and then another, following as he keeps hold of her hand and leads her to the bed. He lifts her up by her waist and sets her on the bed. As soon as she’s on the bed she scurries away toward the headboard.

“Camellia,” his voice is chilling as he stands from his throne. She looks at him like a cornered animal, her face in shadow beneath the canopy, her eyes reflecting the candles that line the walls.

Knock-knock.

His eyes still trained on the cave the canopy creates, “Enter.”

Snoke turns toward the door as a plump, bald man steps in. “Your Majesty, I apologize for the interruption, but Hux has arrived.”

“Ah, yes.” Turning toward the bed, his hands grasped behind his back, he leans toward the creature huddled in the shadows, “I’m sorry to delay the fun, my dear, but we’ll have to pick back up another night.” Turning to Kylo like a general awarding a metal, “Fine work, my boy. You tend my vineyard so well.” Stepping into Rey’s space, “I can trust you to escort Camellia back to your room.” Then, speaking from the side of his mouth like they share a secret, “I’m afraid she didn’t quite enjoy Act 1 as much as we did.”

With a flourish of his cape he is gone, and before Rey can catch him, Kylo is slamming the small door in the panels behind him. It is just her and Camellia in the quiet room. Rey steps forward and extends her hand, like Kylo had done, placing the second on top when Camellia takes it.

Not sure when the coals had ignited, maybe from Marigold’s provocations, or the shift of focus to protecting not herself but someone else, Rey fans the embers inside her chest until a single flame pops up. As she walks Camellia through the cold, damp hallways, Rey determines to never let her light go out again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey goes for a walk and comes across a few surprises.

Rey helps Camellia wash and dress her wound, smoothing on a salve provided by Maz and taking care not to rupture the blister that has formed above her wrist. It looks much better than it had the day before and shows no sign of infection.

Rey finds purpose in helping this girl who appears to be even younger than her, a primal instinct to protect and nurture propelling her actions. They exchange few words, but once Rey is done wrapping the clean linen around her arm, she gently glides her thumb over the bandage, a gesture meant to soothe the soul more than the body. Camellia gives Rey a quiet thank you and a sincere smile and then brings her injured arm to her body, the other arm wrapping around it in protection.

For several nights now, no names have been called, business taking precedence over pleasure while The Order convenes. Rey isn’t sure how she’s supposed to live with the knot that forms in her gut each night as the sun sets -- the feeling that a guillotine waits above her exposed, pulsating neck to sever her head from her body.

The girls are finally allowed out of their room on the morning of the fifth day, the chains of the impenetrable gate clanging as it closes, the last carriage’s wheels spitting mud from the road up into its underbelly. Rey watches as her only passageway to freedom is locked and guards step into place on either side. She can see glimpses of the world between the woven metal. It feels like a painting, beautiful but ultimately an illusion.

No, Rey’s fists clench at her sides, the flame in her chest moving to her eyes, pulsing with heat and light, not an illusion. The world is real, and she’s determined to walk through it again.

Rose watches Rey while she shreds a wildflower in her hands, leaving a puddle of violet petals at her feet. With a resolute nod, like she’s coming to a final decision, she lets the stem fall to the ground and steps closer to Rey. “Walk with me,” Rose grabs Rey’s arm, breaking her lingering stare on the closed entrance. It takes a few stumbling steps for her feet to catch up and walk in sync with Rose. Rose walks with a purpose, as if she has somewhere she needs to be, pulling up her skirts and letting her cheeks redden with exertion. Rey takes several side glances at Rose through increasingly deep breaths, wondering what has her so excited.

Once they clear the busy courtyard of the castle, Rose starts a lopsided dialogue with Rey, requiring no more than a few nods of her head in response. Rey appreciates this.

Slowing her stride only momentarily to re-fist her hands into the fabric of her skirts and lift them off the ground, “I’ve been watching you with Camellia. You’re very kind to her.”

Rey nods, a simple “yes,” leaving her lips. This praise is unnecessary, and she’s unsure what to do with it. It has been helpful focusing her attention on someone other than herself, calming, distracting. Even though she and Camellia haven’t exchanged many words, there is something about bodies being in close proximity, breathing the same air, sharing the same space, that connects people. It’s as if their flesh can communicate, separate from their minds, through the act of touch. Rey feels this connection with Camellia. She also feels it with Rose. She still doesn’t know much about their histories, how they came to be here or who they were taken from, nor do they know about her, but something is building between them: a shared life, lived side by side. Surviving. Together.

“I think that’s very nice. Nice for you and nice for her. She’s very young. How old are you?” Rose squints to look at Rey as the sun rises higher into the sky.

Rey shrugs, “I don’t really know.” The terrain starts to incline, and it takes a few deeper, quicker breaths and long strides from Rey’s lean legs to stay in pace with Rose.

Rose stops abruptly and turns around. “That’s too bad. We’ll have to guess.” Rey watches, awestruck, as Rose hikes up her skirts and removes a twelve-inch dagger from a leather band tied to her thigh. Rose holds the blade by the hilt and points it at Rey, waving it from Rey’s toes to her head, as if measuring her, “I’d say...eighteen or nineteen, maybe?” Rose’s composure remains completely neutral, as if she doesn’t hold a deadly weapon casually between her fingers.

Stumbling back a few steps, casting her wide eyes all around her surroundings and willing her heart back down her throat, Rey realizes they are far from the castle with no one in sight. “Where did you--, How did you—.”

Rose ignores Rey’s floundering words and proceeds to turn to the wall and wedge the knife between two stones, metal grinding on stone, her left fingers pulling at the seams while her right shoulder works the knife deeper. One stone loosens and Rose removes it from the wall, holding the blade of the dagger between her teeth so she can pull the heavy rock out with both hands and set it on the ground. Replacing her fingers around the ornately cast steel with one hand, Rose reaches into the hole in the wall and retrieves a small piece of parchment with the other. She unfolds it with both hands and then lets the dagger rest at her side while she reads.

Rey is still reeling from the appearance of the dagger that she now sees has a giant ruby on the butt of the hilt. Her jaw hangs loose and her skirts dance in the late spring breeze. It takes her brain a while to catch up to the fact that Rose has just removed a clandestine note from a secret compartment in the wall. Who put it there? What does it say?

Rose’s face is focused while she reads, brows wrinkling in on themselves, eyes sweeping back and forth as she concentrates on the note’s contents. Her features break into a small smile, accompanied by a giggle and a roll of her eyes. She reads the note again, committing it to memory, before folding it back up and shoving it into the bodice of her dress. She replaces the blade under her dress and then squats to lift the heavy stone into its place in the wall, completely ignoring the shock frozen on Rey’s face.

“I need to destroy this,” Rose gestures to her breasts, “let’s go.” Rose starts to march down the hill, her weight landing heavy on each downward step.

“Wait!” Rey stands above her, the higher ground letting her tower even taller than usual over Rose. “What was that?!” Rey motions with her hands toward the wall and toward Rose’s chest. This is the loudest and most animated Rey has been since, well, since a very long time.

Rose just stands with her arms folded, watching Rey start to flip out, clearly enjoying the response to the little show she’d just given. Rose winks and turns back down the hill, “I told you I still had a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Are you--, Who--, Where did you--.” Rey’s mind can’t sort out the dozens of questions that run through her head, and she takes a few steps after Rose.

Rose yells up to Rey, “All in good time, my young apprentice. All in good time.” It’s clear that Rose isn’t about to divulge any of her secrets right now, and that frustrates Rey, but also a new feeling is swirling in her chest. It feels like hope.

Rose turns around again when she realizes Rey has stopped walking. “Are you coming?”

“No,” Rey shakes her head, “I think I’ll walk a bit more.” She needs to expel this new energy that has just started to course through her veins and sort through what she’d just witnessed.

Rose nods and then resumes her march back, yelling over her shoulder in farewell, “Watch out for bears!”

\--------- (or however you designate a break)

When she is at the furthest corner of the enclosure, near the fruit orchards and vineyards, an orange and white tabby cat starts to weave itself between her legs, letting itself get lost in the several layers of Rey’s skirt.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any food to give you.” Rey crouches down to scratch between the cat’s ears, an immediate purr vibrating from its neck. “You like that, don’t you?” Rey adds a second hand to her ministrations, the cat lifting its chin as she rubs underneath.

Do you know you’re trapped in here? Do you care? You’re probably safer in here than you’d be out there. Rey turns to the wall, looking up to confirm, no, there’s no way a cat could get up there. Do you like your life here, little kitty? I wish I could be as oblivious and content as you are.

The cat leaves Rey’s hands and starts to walk toward the sweet-smelling rows of trees and vines. When Rey doesn’t follow it stops and turns its head, waiting expectantly. “Oh. Am I to follow you?” Rey takes a few steps, and the cat turns to lead the way through the carefully planted rows. If Rey is too slow or stops to finger a leaf or blossom, the cat stops and waits. “Where are we going, little friend?”

As Rey starts to follow the cat between a row of shoulder-high trees, she hears the sound of wood slamming against wood, maybe a crate being set into a wagon. She stops at the startling noise and then crouches to hide. If someone were to get down on their hands and knees and look under the foliage they’d see her legs, but if she walks with her knees bent and her back rounded, she might be able to retrace her steps without being seen. She isn’t sure if she’s allowed to be here, and she’s not interested in finding out.

As she takes a few steps backward, she hears the creek of wheels moving, but it stops after a few seconds. Rey tries to look for feet under the vines to determine which direction will be the safest for her to travel without attracting attention. She braces her hands on the brown grass as she turns her head side to side.

The cat hasn’t left Rey. It continues twisting between her legs, and now arms, as she kneels on the ground. The tabby starts to meow, loudly. Rey tries to shush the cat, her finger over her lips, but it keeps up what has become a full-blown yowl.

_Cat, why are you trying to get me in trouble? I thought we were friends._

Rey starts to crawl on her hands and knees, forward this time, with her head nudging the cat forward that continues to pace and cry in front of her.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Rey’s eyes freeze on the ground. Kitty runs away, abandoning his new playmate. A smooth but thick voice pours over her, like hot candle wax. It burns at first and then leaves her paralyzed.

“You need to leave, _now_.” The fear inside Rey pushes her to move, cracking the wax that hardens around her. She stands slowly, brushing the pebbles and dirt from her knees and hands before straightening her spine to look where the reprimand originated.

Kylo looms over her, still several safe paces way but casting a shadow over Rey in the morning light. The sun shines brightly behind him, making it hard for Rey to make out more than a silhouette of the substantial man. He’s holding a sharp knife in one hand, which only adds to his frightening image.

She’s never thought about what the proxies must do during the day. It makes sense that he’d be put to work doing manual labor, tending the vineyard outside the castle as well as the vineyard inside.

Involuntarily, Rey’s body takes a step forward. It’s as if an unknown force is drawing her closer to Kylo, a gravitational pull. Rey looks down at her feet, dumbfounded that they would take her closer to a man she clearly should keep a distance from.

The hand holding the knife flinches, like he’d thought of raising it up in defense of himself, and Kylo takes a step back. The phrase “they are more afraid of you than you are of them” enters Rey’s mind. Rey’s forehead wrinkles at his reaction until she remembers rule number one: no touching. She might as well be an open flame, and Kylo means to keep a safe distance.

Rey ignores the alarm bells going off in her mind as she takes another step forward, testing to see if it will cause him to move again. It does. He steps back, echoing her footsteps. It reminds Rey of a couple she’d once watched dance in the village, their footsteps mirrored as they swept across the wooden floor as one. “What are you doing? You need to go.” He looks at her feet and then back at her face in alarm.

Rey blinks at him, taking a few side steps to look at him without the sun in her eyes. In this new lighting he looks less threatening, the sun throwing half his face in shadow, illuminating the moles and beauty marks on the left side of his face. It’s as if half his face is angel and the other half is demon.

Rey’s hand lifts toward him, an urge to trace her finger down the center line of his face, across his protruding nose, down his full lips, and over the stubble of his soft chin. Maybe if she touches him, she can tell which part of him is real and which is the illusion. He looks at her hand as it rises and takes another step back, as if lightning might pour from her fingertips.

Clenching his fists and rooting his feet to the ground, he bellows at Rey, “Leave!” This startles Rey from her trance, fear returning to its rightful place inside her chest, and she starts to take several backwards steps, ready to turn and run. As her body twists around her foot catches on a root and she tumbles to the ground, her full weight slamming into her hands.

“Ow,” is all that she says as she lifts her palms to find them scraped and cut, a few lines of blood beginning to bloom beneath the dirt on her hands.

“Are you ok?” Rey twists toward the deep voice, still on the warm ground, her dress covered in dirt. He’s closer than he’d been before she fell. He looks at her with warm concern breaking through the cracks of his hard exterior. Rey can’t decide if she should be scared or intrigued.

He extends his free hand and then puts it back at his side. Rey pulls her feet under her and uses the unbroken skin of her fingertips to push herself off the ground. As she settles her weight on both feet, she feels a little unsteady. An experimental step causes Rey to stumble on a weakened ankle.

Rey holds up her skirts to assess the damage. Kylo’s cheeks blush at the sight of her ankles, “You’re hurt.”

“No. No. I’m ok.” Another tentative step proves that Rey can put weight on her foot, but she’ll walk with a little limp. Kylo’s lips curve down while she walks in a little circle, the line between his eyebrows deepening as she winces with each step of her injured foot.

Facing him once more, Rey wipes her hands on her white dress and leaves two red streaks. Rey looks down at her hands again. The blood is pooling thicker and she can see small rocks and dirt caught between the cuts.

“You need to clean your hands.” Kylo turns around and stomps down the aisle. Rey looks from side to side, not sure if she’s meant to follow.

She hobbles after him, her body and mind at war. This is definitely not something she should be doing. If rule number one is not to let any man touch her outside the confines of Snoke’s bedroom, then talking to a man alone in a vineyard, especially a proxy, must be somewhere on the list. He’d made it clear she shouldn’t be here, but still she walks after him.

From behind, she can see the wind pulling at his loose dark strands, unbraided and curling at his shoulders. The back of his head reminds her of the last time she’d seen this view of him. She isn’t sure if it’s the direct sunlight, but her skin starts to warm as she thinks of Marigold’s hands threaded through his hair as she pulled him deeper into her sex. She shakes the image from her mind and focuses on the throbbing in her hands.

As they walk past rows of vines, Rey notices a trail of grooves in the dirt, like a giant had run his hands through the earth, similar to the way Rey had created lines in the fabric of her dress. Water trickles down to each row of vines. They walk along the small streams until they reach the source of the water, a babbling brook. Kylo keeps walking past where the water forks off to feed the fruit trees until they reach a section that looks to be about a foot deep, the waters rushing quickly past moss-covered rocks that peak out of the water and a large olive tree casts a net of light and dark on the water and ground.

“Put your hands in the water,” Kylo directs, taking a few careful steps away and turning around to sit on a log. Rey crouches down and leans over the water, submerging both hands below the ripples. It’s cold, but it numbs the sting in her hands. The clear, rushing water pulls much of the dirt and rocks from her hands, but Rey is too busy sneaking glances at Kylo over her shoulder to notice. He self-consciously rubs his hands through his hair, and Rey gets a peak at his reddening ears. After a few moments, Kylo clears his throat and pantomimes rubbing his hands together as an instruction to Rey. She looks back down at her hands, obeys, and then pulls them from the water for inspection. They look clean, but fresh blood begins to break through her skin again.

Rey sits on a large rock and holds her hands in the air, letting them dry. Kylo stands and takes several quick steps toward her. She feels like she should move, dodge the incoming cannonball, but something in her challenges his advancement and she stays put. He kneels down at her feet and grabs the hem of her dress, separating it from the bottom of her unsoiled, calf-length shift. Rey’s stills, unsure she should let him continue, but too curious to stop him. She can’t believe how close he is, considering he’d reeled away from her like she was one of Satan’s fallen angels a few moments ago.

Taking great care not to touch her legs, Kylo holds the fabric of her shift and with a swift movement begins to rip it apart. The whites of Rey’s eyes widen in shock and the air is sucked from her lungs. After ripping up two inches, he begins to rip around, the strip of linen breaking away freely with his precise yank. Rey lifts her feet as it’s pulls from behind her exposed calves and soon Kylo holds a long strip of cloth. He uses his teeth to hold his now claimed portion of her undergarment while he rips it in two.

“Hold out your hands.” Keeping one strip in his teeth, he wraps the makeshift bandage around one hand. As careful as he is, she can feel the heat and weight of his fingers as they graze her cloth covered palm. He repeats the same movements with her other hand, tying a knot to keep the bandage firmly in place. “They should be fine by tomorrow.”

Rey looks down at her hands, wondering if she’s just broken rule number one. A quick glance over each shoulder slows Rey’s beating heart. They are in fact still alone.

Alone.

She’s alone with Kylo. Her heart picks back up its hummingbird pace.

He’s taken to sitting on his log again. They don’t speak, but it isn’t silent. The water continues to push past the rocks, the wind rustles the leaves on the other side of the stream, and the dirt and gravel crunch under their shifting feet.

Rey rests her tended hands, palm up, in her lap. “You’re Kylo,” she lets her head fall in his direction, “I’m—”

“No!” He holds out a hand as if she’s about to touch a hot flame. His baritone voice startles Rey as it reverberates off her ribcage. “Don’t tell me your name. I don’t want to know.” He pleads into her eyes, as if learning her name is a weight his already heavy-laden shoulder cannot bear to hold. He knows her only as Daisy and wants to keep it that way. It’s in this moment that Rey realizes the only person in the castle, in the world maybe, who knows her real name is Maz.

Rey swallows her name back down her throat. “Ok.” She watches the water roll and gurgle. “Thank you,” she holds out her wrapped palms, “I guess I’m pretty clumsy.”

Kylo stands abruptly, “You should go back now.” He looks down at her ankle, “Can you walk?”

Rey meets his posture. “Um, yes, I think. I just twisted it a little.” Rey tries her full weight on her injured foot again. It hurts a bit but bears her weight fine. She turns to make her back down to the castle, stopping to look at him once more, “Thank you, again.”

He doesn’t speak, just nods, his hands behind his back while the veins in his neck pop.

Rey turns back toward the castle, a slight limp in her step as she makes her way back, extinguishing the desire to have him hold her wounded hand in his or place his strong hands on her tender ankle.

***

“What have you done to your dress, girl?” Maz takes in the dirt and blood staining Rey’s dress. Rey is grateful that her shift isn’t visible. That will be a harder to explain than the basic truth she’d told Maz, she fell. She’d removed the makeshift bandages and shoved them under her pillow as soon as they’d gotten back to their room, keeping her fists clenched to hide the injuries.

Distracted enough by the events of the morning replaying through her mind, Rey stares at Maz when she calls her name that evening, unsure why she’s being summoned. “Change into your robe, Daisy. His majesty has requested you tonight.”

Whoosh. The guillotine is released.

Rey enters the room with two other girls, as before. They wait at the foot of the bed, as before. The door slams behind Maz as she leaves, as before. Rey’s heart beats out of her chest, as before.

Tonight, Iris and Lilly join her, two girls she’s sat across from at meals, shared a room with for the past week, listened to as they talk to each other over their cross stich. Though she hasn’t talked to them much, they’re a part of the connection that’s growing between her and the room full of girls. A collective.

Having kept her gaze everywhere except the bed, Rey is startled when a male voice chimes from behind her. It’s a melody, a bow pulled across strings. Cheerful. Optimistic. Not Kylo.

“Hello, ladies.” Lying with his ankles crossed, his hands propped up behind his head, a man in a black silk robe addresses the ladies with a casual air. He has dark eyes and a strong jaw. One curl breaks away from his chestnut locks and falls across his forehead. A charming smile crinkles the lines on either side of his eyes.

The two girls turn around, flop their bellies on the bed and let their chins rest in their cupped hands. “Hi, Poe,” they both replay in unison.

“How have my two favorite girls been?” Poe sits up on his elbows.

“Good,” they both blush. Their eyes twinkle as they take in his handsome features.

Rey has turned to watch the interaction but stays standing, confused by her companions’ relaxed attitudes.

“You’re new.” Poe’s eyes look Rey up and down, but she doesn’t feel threatened by his gaze.

“That’s Daisy,” Lilly turns on her side to look at Rey, “She’s nice. Quiet, but nice.”

“She helped Camellia after her punishment,” Iris adds, looking over her shoulder.

Poe sits all the way up, crossing his legs, revealing legs and thighs covered in dark hair, “Pleasure to meet you Nice Daisy.”

Snoke enters the room through the door in the wood paneling. A man with greying hair and a permanent frown etched on his face accompanies him. They’re discussing something intently while they make their way to the table that stands behind Snoke’s throne. They climb two steps to get to the landing, clearing a few items on the desk to roll out a map.

The girls and Poe all turn toward Snoke, their attention training on him and his guest. Lilly and Iris stand back up, their feet on the floor, and Poe scoots to the edge of the bed. Rey swallows the bile that starts to rise in her throat. She eyes the heavy candlestick that’s been moved to keep the large map flat and imagines herself swinging it until it smashes Snoke’s scarred head with a sickening crack.

Snoke looks at his actors, “Poe, you can begin with Lily and Iris. Daisy, you may take a seat,” he gestures with long bony fingers toward his chair that sits below the desk, motioning for her to sit.

Gawking, Rey stares at him and then the carved dogs on either armrest. “Please my dear, make yourself comfortable. You’re in for another treat.”

Rey tentatively steps toward the chair, her fingers tracing the flames that are carved into one of two wood spokes that protrudes at the top of the chair. It’s beautiful and terrifying at the same time, and it’s hard to imagine this was once part of a living thing. Rey turns and lets her weight rest on the seat cushion. It’s very comfortable. She sits without letting her back relax against the image woven behind her.

Both Iris and Lilly climb onto the bed with Poe in a cloud of giggles. Rey forgets to breathe for a moment as she realizes the implications of this. The logical part of her brain starts to work out the logistics of how Poe could _be_ with two women. She tilts her head in consideration but still isn’t sure what to expect. Maybe they’ll—take turns?

“There’s no way this was an organized attack, Sire.” The man with grey-blue eyes brings the king’s attention back to the map. “It was just farmers and peasants getting out of hand. We will send more soldiers to the area to keep them in line.” His voice is dismissive, as if he’s discussing an insect infestation that the maids will take care of, nothing the king should concern himself with.

Meanwhile, Poe leans back against the bed, his robe spilling open to reveal the curls on his chest. Lilly, whose brown hair is braided in a crown around her head, straddles Poe while Iris scoots herself to lean against the head of the bed, her one braid falling over her right shoulder. Poe’s head is propped up on the pillows and Iris runs her fingers through his hair, pulling and twisting at that one loose curl.

“You expect me to believe farmers with pitch forks decided to attack a caravan carrying weapons from the Outer Rim?” Rey’s attention is snapped back to the voices behind her. She resists the urge to turn around, to stand up on the chair and examine the map they keep thumping their fingers against.

Lilly removes her dark pink robe and tosses it to the floor. Poe caresses her back with the tips of his fingers as she leans over him, her nipples barely grazing his chest as she kisses him into the mattress.

The man almost laughs but it comes out as a scoff, “We wiped the Rebels out, your majesty. You’re not implying that this could have been them? They’re all dead. I made sure of it.”

Lilly pulls back up, Poe lifting off the bed with their lips still attached. She shifts her weight to her knees, sliding them further apart, and rolls once against Poe’s groin. His eyes roll back into his head and he flops back down on the bed.

Snoke begins addressing his companion, intense, low-spoken words that hiss from his yellow teeth, “General Pryde, it appears you missed some.”

While Lilly rolls her hips against Poe, Iris lets Poe’s curl rest on his forehead and pulls herself up to kneel besides his chest, putting her fingers to work on the patch of hair there. She leans over and begins to kiss him as Lilly begins to let out soft moans that accompany the rhythm of her hips.

“It’s just not possible, my Lord,” the man reassures. 

Snoke slams his fist on the table and Rey jumps in her seat, her eyes closing and her shoulders rising. “Then who was it?!” he roars at the man. Everyone in the room freezes, wild animals ready to flee.

“My apologies,” Snoke looks toward the players and gives a slight bow, smoothing his gold trimmed coat, “please continue.”

The girls continue their ministrations on the attractive man. Lilly pulls open Poe’s silk all the way but she blocks Rey’s view of his manhood. Lifting herself higher on her knees, she adjusts herself, one of her hands between her legs before they rest back on Poe’s chest. As she widens her legs and settles back down, both Lilly and Poe groan in harmony.

“I will find who is responsible, your grace.” His voice is reverent, determined.

The sound of a chair scrapes across the floor. “Yes. You will.” Rey hears Snoke settle into a chair at the desk, his power manifested in an eerily calm tone.

The man’s boots clip against the wood floor and the wood panel slams with a bang.

Rey isn’t sure if Snoke’s attention is on the bed or on the parchment she hears him shuffling around.

Without the distraction of the men discussing state secrets, Rey’s attention is pulled back to the performance before her. She is truly very naive. Her imagination couldn’t have come up with what she’s witnessing in the bed. Iris has disrobed and kneels over Poe’s face, facing her friend. Poe’s hands come up to hold Iris’s thighs, pulling her center to his mouth.

Rey slides her hands across her face, covering her eyes, needing a break from the carnal display. The sounds of their bodies still ring in her ears: moaning, gasping, screaming, slick body parts slapping together.

It’s too much. Rey tries to imagine a different sound. The purr of the cat. The sound of the wind in the trees. The babbling brook as it makes it way between the orchard and vineyards.

Much better.

She exhales, relaxes into the chair, her hands removed from her face but her eyes still closed, her daydream taking her away from reality.

Kylo. Her daydream includes Kylo. Sitting on his log, stiff, as if he’s hardened into the wood he sits upon.

Now he’s at her feet. He’s ripping her garment. Her pulse quickens. His eyes darken at the sight of her exposed but stockinged calves. He holds up her foot, pinching the bones between his thumb and fingers, feeling for a break. Rey takes steadying breaths. He’s satisfied that she is well and sets the foot gently on the ground.

From her lap, he takes her hand and cradles it in his own. Her hand is on fire and the heat spreads up her arm, traveling through her body. He wraps the linens around her injury and then sets his lips on top of the bandage. His lips linger over her hand, brushing them against each of her fingertips before repeating the entire process on her other hand, mending her.

She looks up into his amber eyes, shadows from the olive tree dancing across his face. She wants to run her hands through his hair, pull a strand and twist it around her finger, like Iris had done to Poe. Will it be soft?

Rey’s eyes snap back open, remembering where she is. She doesn’t know how much time has passed but the girls are tying their belts and waving their good-byes to Poe. The black silk is once again pulled together across his chest as he sits on the edge of the bed.

Snoke takes the few steps down to meet Rey in his chair. “My dear,” he gestures to the bed, “you needn’t wait any longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are enjoying this fic, I’d love if you gave another one of my works a read.
> 
> [ Yoga Is For Hippies ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23782273/chapters/57129187): Professional golfer Kylo Ren/Ben Solo finds a cute little yoga instructor to help him loosen his hips. Explicit. 23 Chapters. COMPLETE (My first fic!) 
> 
> [Stage Kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934285/chapters/60347938): High school theater kids AU set in the year 2000 with lots of teenage drama/angst. Explicit. 
> 
> [Recollection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26609530/chapters/64880041): Ben Solo has been missing, presumed dead, for over ten years. While shopping for her son's birthday dinner, Rey sees a ghost from her past. Explicit. (Calling all passengers for the Pain Train. Whoot-whoot)
> 
> Come say hello on Twitter! [HouseholdReylo](https://twitter.com/HouseholdReylo)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey finally gets in on the smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no smut. I know. I'm sorry. Tell me you like this story so I'll be inspired to write more.
> 
> If you are enjoying this fic, I’d love if you gave another one of my works a read.
> 
> [ Yoga Is For Hippies ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23782273/chapters/57129187): Professional golfer Kylo Ren/Ben Solo finds a cute little yoga instructor to help him loosen his hips. Explicit. 23 Chapters. COMPLETE (My first fic!) 
> 
> [Stage Kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934285/chapters/60347938): High school theater kids AU set in the year 2000 with lots of teenage drama/angst. Explicit. 
> 
> [Recollection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26609530/chapters/64880041): Ben Solo has been missing, presumed dead, for over ten years. While shopping for her son's birthday dinner, Rey sees a ghost from her past. Explicit. (Calling all passengers for the Pain Train. Whoot-whoot)
> 
> Come say hello on Twitter! [HouseholdReylo](https://twitter.com/HouseholdReylo)

Snoke’s hands stay clasped behind his back as he waits expectantly for Rey to stand from his ornate chair. She places each hand on the carved hounds and pulls herself slowly forward on the huge chair until her feet touch the carpeted floor. The wood creeks under her slippers as she rises, her eyes trapped in a gaze that demanded obedience. He doesn’t touch her but releases a hand and presents the bed, his head turning to look at the offering before looking back at Rey. “My dear.”

It feels like her throat is swelling up, and it’s harder to swallow as she takes careful steps toward the bed. She reaches the footboard entirely too soon and turns around to push herself up onto the mattress. Snoke looks over Rey’s shoulder to Poe, “Daisy is an innocent maiden,” he looks down and smiles gently down at Rey.I It feels disgusting, “She needs to be _educated_.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Poe answers from under the crown canopy.

Rey keeps her eyes on Snoke as he nods approvingly and turns to resume his post at the desk. Once his eyes are off her she finally takes a full breath, filling her lunges with all the bravery she can muster. She tentatively looks over her shoulder at Poe whose kind smile works to calm her racing heart. He uses his arm to motion her up to the headboard that he rests against, his hands repositioning pillows for her comfort.

Rey turns and crawls up the bedspread, clutching her robe closed with shaking fingers. Rey sits against the bedspread next to Poe, her legs outstretched and crossed at the angle, several pillows between them. She notices that his skin still glistens with a sheen of sweat when she glances over at him. Snoke hardly pays them any attention as he settles at his desk and begins to pen a letter, the map still laid out beneath his parchment.

“Have you ever touched yourself, Daisy?” She whips her head at him. She’s not completely sure what he means, but she has an inkling. She looks down at her lap and wordlessly shakes her head side to side. “I see. How about this? For now, I will stay right where I am, but you lay down, close your eyes, and listen to the sound of my voice.” Though she is relieved that Poe isn’t going to touch her, the weight of having to put on a convincing show for Snoke by herself feels daunting.

Nodding, Rey wiggles herself down, pulling down a pillow to rest under her head and folding her hands over her stomach. She looks up at the stars scattered across ceiling and finds Serpens, one of the constellations Rose had taught her about in the nights prior. Rose told her that some snakes had enough venom to take down an elephant (whatever that is), sneaking around in the grass until they find the perfect moment to strike. She loved the idea of it.

Poe’s voice is calm and soothing as he begins to guide Rey to explore her body. “Daisy, I want you to touch your breasts. You can do it over your robe.” Rey lifts one hand and gently cups her breast. It feels fuller with the extra pounds she’s added the last few weeks. “Use both hands.” She obeys and lifts her other hand, moving her fingers gently over the silk. Trying to push aside how ridiculous she must look touching her body, Rey tries to imagine different hands drifting over the silk, strong hands. Hands that might be calloused from pulling a cart full of fruit.

As her fingernails skim the fabric over her nipples, they start to pull into peaks. If it hadn’t been for the way she’d seen the girls, or Marigold, react, she wouldn’t have known that stimulation here could be pleasurable. There is still so much for her to learn. “Very good. Now pinch your nipples and rub them between your fingers.” She does, over the robe, and electric sparks start to shoot down her body, lighting a fire in her belly and causing her legs to straighten as her thighs squeeze together. She stares up at the ceiling and the stars appear to be twinkling against the midnight blue as she twists and flicks her nipples above the silk.

“Try a little harder.” She can hear him shift in the bed, and she looks over to see him lay on his side with his body propped up on one elbow, his head resting in his hand. She looks back up at the painted arches and flattens her stiffened peaks between her fingers. The additional prick of pain makes the heavens grow brighter, and she blinks when she thinks a shooting star streaked through her vision.

A small squeak escapes her pursed lips and she flattens her hands against her chest. She lifts her head to look up at Snoke as he shifts his gaze away from his work to nod paternally at her. She feels humiliated, horrified that her unrestrained noise has pleased him. He looks back down, and she lets her head fall back on the pillow.

Poe’s voice lowers, barely a whisper. “Try not to think about him. Just focus on how you feel, focus on my voice. Trust me and do your best to relax. Once you complete, you can go and it could be weeks before you have to come back.”

Rey has never _completed_ before. She hopes it doesn’t take long. Or maybe she can pretend to complete. Women would talk of rousing the pleasure being with a man evoked, but Rey always had other pressing needs that needed to be met. There’d never been a night when hunger, cold, or fear had receded enough for loneliness to take precedence.

Taking a deep breath, Rey focuses again on tickling the skin beneath her robe. Repeating the same ministrations Poe had instructed, she works herself back to where she was before her little outburst.

“I want you to leave one hand on your breast and slide your other one between your legs.”

She can’t possibly risk seeing Snoke’s face while she touches herself there, for the first time, so she shuts her eyes and slips a hand under the fold of her garment to cup her sex.

Poe scoots closer to Rey and though he doesn’t touch her, she can feel his warmth. Rey holds herself and waits for instructions. “I want you to dip a finger inside yourself.” Taking a deep breath, Rey pushes her folds apart and finds her entrance. Holding the breath she’s just taken, she lets her forefinger find its way inside her warm center. She’s surprised and embarrassed to find that she is wet inside. She exhales as her finger explores the strange, spongy feel of her inner walls, her muscles tensing at the new intrusion. Rey stills, waiting for her muscles to relax and for the voice to guide her on.

As if reading her mind, Poe continues. “Cover yourself in it.” After attempting to steady her rising heartbeat and breathing, Rey spreads her essence in the valley between her dark curls, reaching in with two fingers for more to slicken the pulsating flesh. She’s not sure if the hum of pleasure leaves her mouth or just resonates in her head. Though her hands have already started to find their own rhythm, Poe tells her to keep moving them, not staying in one spot for too long. She rolls her fingers up and down, up and down, careful not to linger at the apex she finds delivers a burst of sensation.

There is a desire building, a desire she’s never experienced before and one she’d have a hard time explaining. There is something missing, she doesn’t feel whole. She tries to fill the desire by using her finger to enter herself. It isn’t enough, she pushes a second finger in, then a third. She wishes there was more, more to fill her up. Her fingers penetrate as deep as they will go, and her head digs into the pillow as her back arches off the mattress. The beat of her heart no longer pounds in her chest but now resides deep in her stomach. The rush of blood through her heart echoes in her ears. It sounds like the wind blowing through leafy trees. Or a fast-moving stream.

“You’re doing such a good job.” Though she knows Poe lay next to her, she hears another man’s voice, a voice with more baritone and less gloss. “What a good girl you are. But it isn’t enough, is it? Use your other hand and find your bud. Rub it.”

Spreading her legs wider apart, and too wrapped up in her own pleasure to care that her robe spills open, Rey uses her other hand to tease at the desired place while she pushes her fingers in and out. The additional sensations cause her heels to dig into the linens and a growl to rumble up her chest. She feels like a damn is welling up inside her, the water rising higher and threatening to flood the banks.

Her fingers thrust deep, but she’s still bereft the fullness she desires.

The man next to her works his way closer as her panting increases. She doesn’t flinch as he pulls the robe off her shoulder and places simple kisses on her skin. It feels like being kissed by the sun’s rays, like this afternoon, in the vineyard. The physical touch churns the water that swirls behind the dam, white froth jumping from the rippling surface and water vapor misting the air.

The warmth of the sun moves from her shoulders down her collar bone, and as the silk falls off a single breast, the sun drips down to wrap about her peaks. With a suck and a bite, the dam breaks, raw power surging through Rey as she lets out a wail of elation.

The stream levels out, small waves trailing big, as Rey lifts her hands and rests them palms up on the bed, her bent knees straightening as her legs return to the mattress. A small kiss is placed on her shoulder and her robe is pulled back over her chest. “See? I told you, you could trust me.”

She does trust him. He’d helped her, healed her. He wouldn’t hurt her. He makes her feel wonderful. Unable to move her still limp body, Rey turns her head to look at the man beside her and her blissful smile falters when a different set of brown eyes meet her.

Right. Poe. Poe is here with her.

The creak of a door wakes Rey from the daze she’s been slipping into, and she lifts her head and opens her eyes in the direction of the sound.

“You did beautifully my dear. I expect great things from you in the future.” The door slams behind Snoke as he leaves through the paneled wall, Rey’s head falling back to the pillow to process what she’s just done in the King’s bed.

Poe shifts in the bed, and she turns her head to look at him again. He’s readjusting his robe, and the movement reminds Rey to look down at herself and make sure she’s properly covered. There is an awkward silence that Rey breaks with a “Thank you.” She’s not sure if that’s the right thing to say, but he deserves it. He was gentle and kind, and Rey knows this could have been a thousand times worse if Poe didn’t have such a pleasant temperament. She feels like she’s found an ally behind enemy lines.

“You’re welcome,” he turns back with a dashing smile. 

He winks at her before sitting up and swinging to the side of the bed to slip his shoes back on. “It was all you. You followed my voice bravely up the mountain and all I did was give you a little nudge to send off the cliff.”

Rey smiles as she sits up and pulls the folds of her robe back over her legs, a laugh spilling out, “That’s a horrible analogy. It sounds like you’re sending me off to my death.”

A shadow passes over his face, and Rey realizes how accurate the comparison may have been. He takes her hand and looks her in the eyes. “I swear to you Daisy, we will do everything in our power to make sure that never happens again, to you, or to any of the girls.” A gloom hangs over him as he walks to the paneled door and holds it open. Looking back at Rey he puts away whatever thoughts plagued his mind and forces his face to smile back at Rey, “Now be a good girl and get yourself back to your quarters.”

The door shuts, and Rey finds herself alone in King Snoke’s bedchamber. She looks left and right, taking a moment to savor the rare moment of isolation. Rey lets her fingers trail up the intricately carved bedposts as she eases herself off the bed. They truly are beautiful, works of art in their own right.

Rey’s legs feel like her bones have gone soft as she slides off the bed and lands barefoot on the plush carpet. Instead of slipping into her shoes and heading for the main door, Rey pads over to wooden steps that lead up to the raised level of the room.

She looks at the bare floor and hesitates before letting her pale toes land on the cold surface. She should not go beyond this point, but the recent events of the evening have left her mind clear and sharp, like afternoon sun evaporating the fog that has settled over her brain. There’s important information on that desk, and though she has no idea how her reading it could make any difference, she feels compelled to take the risk.

The wood creeks noisily beneath her first step, so Rey tiptoes quickly the rest of the way to the desk. There are maps, an ink well, and piles of documents among the scattering of impressive looking trinkets and contraptions. There is a gold handled letter opener encrusted in jewels that Rey is tempted to hide against her warm skin. No, information and secrets are more valuable and dangerous, and Rey has no idea how to handle a weapon.

Pushing a half-written document she can hardly read to the side, she takes a look at the expansive map. She’s never seen a map of the land before, but she quickly orients herself by pressing her fingertip to the small castle located in the center. From there she traces the river she remembers the wagon following when she was brought to this despicable place. It snakes south and dries up as it reaches land painted with yellows and oranges. Miniature rock formations have been scattered throughout the treeless wasteland, sitting as frozen giants in the sand. Rose has been teaching her the alphabet, and though she can only read the simplest of words, she’s able to make out the J-A-K-K-U, of Jakku. It looks just as small and insignificant and as she’s felt her whole life.

Her fingers move north to the hundreds of small, snow capped trees that have painstakingly been painted. She expects the paper to be rough and cold from the mountains, but all she feels is the smooth surface of dried ink.

To the west of Snoke’s kingdom lies the ocean, blue waters and teal sea monsters that threaten to break the gold barrier around the entire work of art.

Snoke’s kingdom, outlined in red, bleeds out from the center of the map, choking off roads and cities. Where new lands have been conquered, new lines have been added. Fingers of red reach further, deeper, throughout the map. One tendril cuts right through Jakku, devouring it and everything in its path.

Scanning back up to the top of the map, Rey notices a valley deep in the mountains has been crudely circled with fresh ink. A road runs through the circle, and she traces the black line down until she finds the label: Rimma.

A door slams shut somewhere behind the walls and startles Rey from her study. She turns in the direction of the disruption and then back at the map, memorizing as much of it as she can before putting everything back as she’s found it and scurrying out of the room as quickly as she can.

*

The sun peaks out behind passing clouds, casting shadows on the soldiers standing in formation before His Majesty. The sergeants yell orders that turn the soldiers back and forth, parading their precision and agility before their judge. They stand at attention, waiting for the approval of Snoke, who sits on a raised platform with his advisors on one hand and his vineyard of women on the other. He holds up a hand and pauses, letting the pomp of the event rise to a crescendo, before letting his hand fall in approval. The sergeants release the breath they were holding and order their men at ease.

While they file off the main courtyard, Snoke turns his attention to Lord Prior at his side. “To continue the presentation, Your Highness, several of our best fighters have been selected to spar before you today.” Snoke nods in approval, a hand under his chin as he leans on his armrest nearest Prior.

A maid holds a tray of food out for Snoke to select from, but he waves her off, and she steps toward the women. Rey selects a fig from the tray and nods with a smile at the girl. This showcase has been much more interesting than Rey originally had assumed it would be when Rose tried to explain it to her. The castle had been draped in flags and banners, trumpeters played to announce the arrival of the King, and the girls had been instructed to wear their cleanest, finest dresses. Rey had never experienced anything so festive. She let herself set aside the weight of her situation and just enjoy the moment.

The soldiers were dressed in their finest, helmets and breastplates rubbed until they shined, faces washed, blades sharpened. Each squad wore a different colored sash around their waists, and it was explained to Rey that each color represented a different army stationed around the kingdom.

After the rows of polished soldiers are marched away from the center, two men step away from their lineup and take their positions in the makeshift arena. Page boys run up to them and assist in removing their breastplates and shirts, fighting unprotected as some show of masculinity or bravery. They pull their swords from their sheaths and begin to duel. The clank of their steel resonates off the castle walls and through Rey’s teeth.

Their glistening chests reflect the sun’s rays as they whirl around each other, their feet kicking up a cloud of dirt as they dance. While Rey’s gaze is glued to the demonstration before her, the attendees in the canopied booth start to socialize, taking food and drink, hardly giving the fighting a second glance.

All the heads pause their conversations and turn toward Rey as she lets out a loud gasp when one of the swordsmen pins his opponent to the ground, his weapon resting on his bare chest. Realizing her faux pas, Rey looks back amongst the snickering audience and catches Snoke’s amused expression. He lifts a finger and motions for her to come toward him.

Standing from her seat, Rey reluctantly steps toward the off-putting man, her gaze focused on her feet. He pats the empty seat beside him, and Rey smooths the back of her dress to her thighs and sits, crossing her feet at the ankle as Maz had instructed her. As she sits with her hands delicately folded in her lap, her back straight and shoulders down, all her muscles held at attention, it’s hard to imagine that only the evening before, she’d let herself come completely undone in his presence.

“I see that you are enjoying the pageantry of my finest soldiers.” Rey’s cheeks blush. “Even the best performers need a turn in the audience.” Rey just nods a simple yes, keeping her eyes on her interlaced fingers.

“Do you have a favorite?” Her eyes lift and catch his as he motions below their stilted seats to the scene below. The original fighters have been relieved and rest on stools along the sidelines. A new pairing has taken the floor, and several more stand ready for their turn, all shirtless with the sash tied high around their waists. Scanning the group, Rey’s eyes stop on one tall, dark haired man who stands fully clothed and apart from the soldiers, unloading crates of apples from a handcart.

“Ah, I see.” Rey’s heart stops at her foolishness. Snoke snaps his fingers, and a boy appears on his knee at Snoke’s side. While sliding one of his gold rings around on his finger with his thumb, Snoke whispers instructions into the page’s ear, who disappears down the stairs. “Excellent suggestion, my dear. This should be fun.” Snoke claps his hands together once, holding them in prayer as he rests them against his chin, a maniacal energy seeping through his pores as he smiles down at the courtyard. “Very fun indeed.”

Careful not to let any expression cross her face, Rey watches the errand boy approach Kylo, who leans down so the messenger can yell Snoke’s request into his ear amongst the cheering crowd. Kylo whips his head up at the stand, a flash of terror steeling his features momentarily before he sets his crate back in his wagon and stalks toward the edges of the clearing. The boy runs ahead and yells his instructions at the sergeants who appear to be running the event. Pointing up at Snoke and then back at an advancing Kylo Ren, the sergeants nod in understanding, calling commands at the current fighters to stop.

It feels like Rey has pushed a boulder off a cliff and there is nothing she can do to prevent it from gaining speed as it barrels down the hill, set on destroying anything in its path.

Snoke sits back in his seat and motions for a maid to refill his glass of wine as he pops an oily olive between his lips. “I don’t blame you, Daisy. He truly is one of my finest specimens.” After taking a sip of his wine, he sets his goblet back down on the table behind Rey’s seat before leaning into her space and whispering in her ear. “I promise you’ll have your turn to examine him soon enough.” A chill runs down Rey’s spine, and she doesn’t know if it’s from Snoke’s rancid breath or the idea of Kylo touching her.

Standing on the settling dirt, Kylo Ren pulls his black tunic over his head and tosses it to the errand boy. He turns to accept his weapon, and as if on cue, all the soldiers on the grounds place a hand on the hilt of their swords that hang at their sides. There’s a moment where everyone holds their breath as Kylo swings the sword in a full rotation casually at his side, a motion that come second nature to someone whose muscles retain the memories from years of practice.

Once the crowd starts to breathe again, their excitement catches like wildfire. The exasperated looks on the sergeants’ faces prove that they were not expecting this change in lineup. While the organizers scramble to choose someone to join Kylo in the ring, he warms up with a few slashes through the air, his feet spinning in the dirt as he takes out invisible opponents.

Taking better care to swallow her gasp, Rey still can’t stop her knuckles from going white as she fists her hands into her gown at the sight of Kylo’s back. It’s destroyed. It’s covered in old and new long red scars, burn marks. It looks as if a fired, glowing sword has been held to his back in several places. There aren’t any new blisters, and his movements don’t appear to be hindered by any residual pain, but as she watches the gruesome web move with his flexing back muscles, a bud of compassion blooms inside of Rey.

Possible scenarios run through Rey’s mind of how he received such punishment. What did he do? Her foot starts to bounce under her skirts, and it takes all her restraint not to glare at the assumed source of Kylo’s injuries sitting next to her.

A man shorter, but thicker though the torso than Kylo, steps away from the other shirtless competitors and into the clearing. The two men acknowledge each other with a polite nod before assuming their opening stance.

It’s hard to Rey to tell who is winning or losing as they push each other up and down the clearing in the courtyard. She’s unfamiliar with sword play and can’t tell who holds the upper hand. From her inexperienced eyes it looks like they each take turns leading, exerting themselves while the other defends and recovers.

It’s magnificent. Beautiful. Like two artists creating a masterpiece before her eyes.

An emotion starts to bubble up from inside Rey, one that feels unfamiliar. She searches her mind to put a word to the feeling.

Jealousy.

She’s jealous. Jealous of the power they wield. The skill they execute.

The things she could do with that kind of force.

There’s a shift in the momentum, and Kylo appears to be leading the dance more and more. Before he can pin his companion, Snoke signals to the sergeants below, and a dark-skinned solider with a determined face starts to come at Kylo from behind. He slams the original opponent hard in the chest with his palm while their swords are locked in the air beside their heads. He’s sent flying into one of the support beams of the raised platform Rey and the rest of the court sit on. It rattles, and several of the girls stand from their seats and race to the edge to peer down.

Kylo’s sword meets the incoming blow before he even turns around. He spins around while using his strength to hold the opponent at bay, his second hand coming up to join the first, his tired muscles shaking to keep the blade away from his face. The sound of steel scraping against steel sings as their swords slide apart.

Kylo’s hair clings to his face and neck as he defends himself against blow after blow. He spins his body around to distance himself from the advances and aims his sword at his opponent’s chest, but his sword is pushed to the ground by the defender. The soldier holds it there as long as his strength allows before releasing and quickly scrabbling backwards out of Kylo’s range.

Kylo rights himself and slowly stalks toward his prey, flipping his weapon mid-air and grabbing it with the blade pointing behind him. He holds it out parallel to the ground as he swings it through the air, momentum building as his body turns with it, the blade coming right for the soldier’s neck. His blow is stopped with a clang from the defender’s weapon. Kylo stares his opponent down with feral eyes, annoyance at having to participate in this circus morphing him into someone carnal and animalistic, the beast within awakened and taking over.

He takes several more advancing swings, still holding his sword backward as he pushes the defendant to the edges of the clearing. People back up and give the fighters more room. He switches his grip and uses two hands to finish the battle. Blow after blow, harder and faster, until he hits the rival’s weapon with so much force that it flies from his hands and rattles on the ground. Kylo presses the tip of the sword to the man’s neck. Without a weapon or armor he no longer looks like a solider but just a man, a man without a choice, who is a hair’s breath from death.

Both men breathe heavily, their eyes locked as the roles of predator and prey fall into place. In a blink, Kylo could spill his blood and end him. But he does not. He steps back, lowers his sword, then tosses it to the ground.

Snoke stands and claps, the hem of his gold robes falling to brush the wooden floorboards. Rey stands a moment later, her eyes trained on Kylo as he grabs his shirt and returns to his cart of apples, not giving the spectacle or its onlookers a second more of his attention. A wisp of a smile pulls at her lips, but she quickly relaxes her face, sensing danger in letting Snoke witness any more affection toward Kylo.

When several more pairs have been given their chance to fight, Snoke stands and looks down at Rey. “Shall we congratulate our champions?” The wood creeks as Snoke starts down the stairs with Rey and several advisors trailing behind him. The crowd ceases clapping as Snoke approaches, his hands behind his back as he walks in front of the line of warriors. “Well done, my children. With soldiers like you, we can rest assured that our kingdom remains safe from those who would wish to do us harm. You bring honor upon yourselves and fill me with great joy.”

The crowd politely claps at the end of the king’s speech. He lifts a hand and ducks his head to quiet the noise. “As a token of my gratitude, I wish to award one of you with one of the finest examples of craftsmanship our bladesmith has ever blessed us with.”

A man in a leather apron steps forward with an unsheathed sword resting on his outstretched, gloved hands. Instead of picking it up, Snoke turns to look at Rey while still addressing his army and household. “It will be presented to you by our newest, and most delicate of flowers, Daisy.”

Startled by the use of her pseudonym, Rey looks back and forth between Snoke and the glistening weapon. It shimmers in the afternoon sun.

The bladesmith steps closer to Rey, and they all wait for her to take the weapon. All the noise in the courtyard suddenly becomes mute in Rey’s ears. It’s just her and the sword. Images of her moving, weaving expertly through the courtyard dance through her mind. She could grip the hilt and plunge it into his heart. Or swing it though the air, the blade still vibrating as his head fell to the ground.

But she possesses no such skill.

Her hand wraps around the ridged, black handle. Her knuckles brush along the counter-curved crossguard that bends like a snake and joins the sturdy, wide blade to the handle. There’s a moment’s hesitation before she lifts it off the outstretched fingers of the craftsman. Rey looks up at the innocent women who line the banister of the overlooking platform, then back at Snoke.

Someday.

Someday when their safety can be ensured. Someday when there is no chance she’ll fail.

Someday, she will kill him.

Rey lifts the sword, and her weak wrist immediately gives out, the tip of the blade falling to the dirt. The entourage of finely dress councilors snicker as Rey makes a line in the dirt, her second hand joining the first to lift the sword back up. Snoke smiles to himself but lifts a hand to silence the laughter. “Heavier than it looks, sweetheart?”

The humiliation in Rey’s cheeks mixes with the hatred that burns within her gut as he looks away from her and back at the soldiers that stand at attention. He strides down the lineup and stops in front of the man Kylo had finished his fight with. Rey steps up behind. The soldier’s eyes glance at her quicker than a heartbeat before they are trained back on Snoke.

The gift is awarded, but Rey can’t escape the moment that passed in that glance. It felt like he was screaming but with no voice, the same way Rey’s felt for weeks. As Snoke leads her away, she looks over her shoulder to look back at the solider. He no longer looks at Rey but instead looks at the flawless blade, the possibilities of its uses painted across his face. He looks up at Snoke’s retreating back, and Rey swears she sees him flinch before letting the weapon fall at his side.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey finds a teacher.

His Lordship Landonis Balthazar Calrissian slowly makes his way down the long dining hall, his gloved hands hidden behind his back and underneath his powder blue, gold-lined cape. He pauses at each piece of art and considers it thoughtfully, occasionally retracing his steps to review a work again.

He lifts his head and straightens after examining a watercolor of a caged bird. “Once again, your majesty, your vineyard produces the finest of fruits.”

Snoke rests his skeleton-like fingers under his chin as he studies the gentleman.

Each of the king’s girls stand behind and slightly to the right of their craft, their mouths silent but eyes watching. On their easels or pedestals rest paintings, drawings, needle points, etchings, tapestries, and other examples of accomplished young ladies.

Rey stands next to the door of the great hall with Maz, her displeasure at Rey for not having anything to present to the king and his guest still evident in her body language as her pointer finger taps on her folded arms.

Back in the safety of their chambers, Rose had explained to Rey that the smuggler of rare materials and weapons always gets first choice of the king’s generosity. In the same way Snoke enjoys parading his girls before the visiting Lords and Ladies, he prides himself on displaying and gifting their works of art. Though Rey had been encouraged by Maz and the girls to learn a skill, it had never been specifically laid out as a requirement. But apparently there were still things left unsaid that Rey had to learn.

The anticipation of Calrissian’s choice thickens the air as they all wait. Rey wonders why all the girls seem to have a nervous energy about whose work will be picked. Snoke had offered more gifts of gowns, ribbons, and art supplies to whomever was selected, but that still didn’t explain why the women were so focused on Calrissian’s selection.

“This one.” Calrissian turns on the heels of his polished boots to face the king.

Looking at his feet as his gold slippers move silently across the stone floor, Snoke waits until he’s right in front of Calrissian before looking up. He slowly turns to look at the oil painting that depicts a field of wildflowers. He studies it and then gracefully turns back to Calrissian, a painted smile on his own face. “Interesting choice; a pasture so unkept.”

Meeting the king’s gaze, Calrissian flips the edges of his cape over one shoulder and brings his hands forward in prayer. “Ah, but consider the lilies of the field, your highness. Does God himself not tend them? Surely God sees beauty in the untamed.”

Snoke looks back at the painting to consider, the back of his fingers trailing the canvas. “Hum, I suppose,” his long robes sweep across the worn stones as he faces the lord, complacency twinkling in his beady, sunk eyes. “But one must keep a firm watch lest the tares grow ‘long side the wheat.”

The gentleman nods his head several times, his hands still folded in front of him. “Fine point, my Lord.” He turns to bow dramatically at the king, his hands unfolded as he holds his cap back and looks at the ground. “We are truly blest to have his Highness as our watchman.”

Pleased with Calrissian’s show of devotion, Snoke signals for him to rise. “Your loyalty is appreciated as I carry the burden God has placed upon me.”

With Calrissian following a few paces behind, Snoke walks toward the dressed dining table. He picks up an almond and addresses his guest before slipping the toasted nut between his lips. “I do notice that you have selected another piece that depicts the butterfly.”

From her position behind the girls, Rey notices Rose’s hand twitch at the comment.

After the king picks up the bowl of almonds from the table, he holds it out to the Lord, who graciously accepts one. “Yes, your grace. Her ladyship is quite fond of the creatures, and a husband must take into consideration their frivolous proclivities.”

Both men share a laugh as they chew their food.

Setting the bowl down and pouring a glass of wine for the businessman, Snoke watches as Calrissian washes down the amusement. “I should hope to find something of a more reverent tone upon my next visit.” Rey thinks that the volume of his speech goes up a notch as if to make sure the girls, or one particular girl, hears. “I have been always been fond of the clouds, for instance, they inspire me to look to heavens and do God’s will.”

Snoke looks up from the goblet of wine he’s poured for himself and nods approvingly. He raises a hand to signal for Maz, who still hasn’t stopped giving Rey exasperated side glances. With quick, purposeful steps, she’s at his side, waiting for instructions. “Have the painting prepared for Lord Calrissian, and you may escort the girls back to their room.” He smiles into his wine as he looks back at Calrissian, “We have more to discuss concerning the will of God.”

The weathered woman bows her head at her sovereign before straightening and turning to her girls, snapping her fingers for them to follow her single-file out of the room. Rey waits at the door to put herself last in line, but as Maz approaches, pulling the door shut behind them, she addresses Rey under her breath. “You will come with me, girl.”

While the rest of the girls are escorted back to their room by the guards, Rey follows Maz through the narrow passageways that lead to the kitchens. She is lectured the entire way by an irate Maz about the dangers of idle hands and temptations of the devil, and Rey finds it ironic that she chooses to use words like “virtue” and “decency” in her rant about the expectations of respectable young ladies.

The assault on her nose when they enter the humid bowels of the kitchen still takes getting used to. Though her stomach’s capacity is growing, her brain still has a hard time processing that food is, and for the foreseeable future will be, readily available and in quantities she could never finish.

Taking her to a table that rests at the edge of an outdoor opening to the kitchen, Rey is instructed to sit. While she waits on the stool, Maz slams a paring knife on the wooden surface and rests a large ceramic bowl next to it. She disappears momentarily and then returns to drop a heavy barrel of apples and an empty wooden bucket at Rey’s feet.

Without any verbal instruction, Maz picks up an apple and takes the knife in hand. She quickly peels, slices, and cores the apple midair before setting the remaining fruit in the bowl. She sets the knife back in front of Rey, brushes the remains into the bucket, wipes her hands on her apron, and then nods at the barrel.

While Rey sets upon her task, she uses her vantage point to sneak glances at the activity in the courtyard: the blacksmith slams his hammer against an anvil, a young boy chases an escaped chicken, a horse steps impatiently in the mud while its rider argues with a guard; all the while keeping a careful eye on Maz across the kitchen who cooks the apples in a golden syrup before putting them in clay jars for preservation.

Suspecting she’s distancing herself even further from Maz’s good graces with the speed at which she works, Rey groans when she nicks her thumb. Maz notices Rey just staring at her hand as the blood starts to seep from the small cut. Ticking her tongue in annoyance, Maz drags Rey across the kitchen to wash the blood off her finger before wrapping a small strip of cloth around her thumb and pointing back at the table, all the while muttering variations of “stupid girl” under her breath.

When Rey is on her last apple, Maz comes to switch out the full bowl for an empty bowl once again. Rey tosses the last pieces of sticky fruit into the overflowing container and sets the knife down, flexing her stiff and pruning fingers.

“Oh, you’re not done.” Maz carries the full bowl back to the woodburning stove to pour its contents into the already steaming pot. After a handful of a few spices, she gives the oversized container a stir and then sets her wooden spoon aside. Maz turns her back to Rey and steps into a pantry.

From behind her, Rey hears a small and quick whistle. When she turns around, she’s met with Poe’s mischievous eyes and roguish grin. He places a finger over his lips as he sneaks into the kitchen on silent tiptoes. Rey covers her mouth to hide her smile, but the crinkle at her eyes gives her away.

Making his way to the stove, Poe uses his hands to direct the steam wafting off the cooking apples into his face. He takes a dramatic whiff and then smiles back at Rey as his eye roll and shoulders relax in ecstasy. Careful not to touch the hot sides of the pot, Poe plucks a sweet slice from the juices and holds it above his head, letting the syrup drip into his waiting mouth. He gives it a little toss in the air before catching it between his teeth. Rey suppresses her giggles as he stands with arms above his head like a performer waiting for his applause. Without making them touch, Rey claps her hands while he takes a bow.

Taking his chances at another treat, Poe reaches to dip a finger in another container of amber liquid near the stove. Too late to hear Rey’s warning cough, his hand is slapped away by an angry Maz.

“No!”

Turning on the charm, Poe pleads his case. “But Maz, your honeyed apples are the best in the kingdom. Surely you can spare a taste for your biggest fan.”

Her sour demeanor melts by a few degrees, but she holds up her finger in reprimand. “Keep your fingers out of my honey pot and I’ll set a few jars aside for you.”

Seemingly unaware of her innuendo, Maz turns to stir the apples while Rey and Poe share a wide-eyed look. Rey has to cover her mouth again to stifle her laughter.

Setting her spoon down again and wiping her hands on her apron, Maz turns to Poe. “My dear boy, I’m out of apples. Will you go tell Kylo that I need another barrel?”

Poe leans down to kiss Maz on the cheek. “Of course, milady.”

Whether from the heat of the stove, or from Poe’s attention, Maz blushes as she pushes aside the cheeky young man.

It isn’t until he passes behind Rey that Maz remembers her presence. “For now, you are excused. You have missed the midday meal, but you may take some bread and cheese and go enjoy the sunshine with the other girls.” Rey stands to leave. “And use that time to ponder how you’d like to keep your hands busy in the future.”

Once she leaves the kitchen, rounding a corner and stepping out into the courtyard, Poe jumps out. “I can think of several ways for you to keep your hands busy in the future.”

Blanching at his outlandish comment, Rey gasps and then giggles. She doesn’t think she’s ever giggled before, let alone twice. Rose makes her smile, but Poe makes her relax in a way she’s never experienced before; as if, for a moment, she isn’t a prisoner at the mercy of a maniacal king’s whims.

Continuing through the courtyard, Poe tags alongside Rey. “Hey, want to help me with something?”

Doing her best to keep her distance, Rey turns to the brazen man as they walk together. “I don’t think I’m supposed to talk to you.”

Poe waves a hand to dismiss the thought. “We’re not allowed to touch each other.” He quickly adds, “out here,” and Rey feels the same blush she saw on Maz creep up her own neck. “But there’s no rules against helping each other.”

Taking a minute to consider, Rey takes a deep breath, stops, and faces the man. “Ok. What?”

Twisting a foot in the dirt, and holding his hands behind his back like a penitent child, Poe looks up at Rey with big doe eyes. “See, I have a previous appointment that I don’t want to be late for. If I go all the way up to the orchard, I will be late.”  
  


“You’ll be late?”

“Yes, I’ll be late. And I’m never late.” He flashes her a winning smile.

Sighing, Rey looks around the courtyard, gaging the other girls and their activities for how much time is left on their outdoor time. “I might not be able to walk all the way there and back again before we have to go inside.”

Poe closes his eyes and shrugs, his pressed lips curving downward. “You could run.”

Folding her arms, Rey lifts her eyebrows at the suggestion. “Run? A lady doesn’t run!”

Poe looks her up and down, leering. He smirks. “You’re no lady.”

If she was allowed to touch him, she’d hit his shoulder. But he has her. She is not a lady.

“Ok. Once I’m clear of the courtyard, I’ll… _run_. But you owe me.” Rey pulls at the skirts of her gown as she contemplates running in such attire.

She looks back up when he replies. “According to my records, you owe me one. But I’m willing to give that first one to you for free and remain in your debt.” He bows gallantly.

The blush on her neck creeps to her cheeks as she remembers his caramel voice instructing her.

“Au revoir.” He turns and runs in the direction of the garrison. Rey tilts her head as she ponders what kind of an appointment he would have with the soldiers.

Once safely out of view of the courtyard, Rey begins to run in the direction of the orchard. It’s difficult with her several layers of fabric, her legs constantly getting tangled, and the bodice pulled tight across her chest. She stops and loosens the strings that tie in her front, letting the tops of her breasts expand as she takes a full, deep breath. Before starting again, she gathers up as much skirt in her arms as modesty will allow, and kicks off the shoes that were bound to fall off or fall apart during her journey. She even pulls her stockings off and stashes them with her shoes behind a rock.

The wind blows through her braids, pulling strands loose and whipping them across her face. Staying off the path, her feet keep to the grass the goats keep neatly trimmed. Her lungs start to burn, and her legs ache much sooner than she’d hoped, but she feels magnificent. She pushes herself harder, faster, feeling powerful and strong. She wants to scream, to let out all the anger and frustration she’s had about her life, her imprisonment.

When she stops at the first row of trees, panting and gasping for air, with her hands on her knees, she starts laughing. The laughter turns almost hysterical as she revels in the glimpse of control pushing her body further had given her. It feels intoxicating. What must it feel like to truly have agency, to choose your path instead of being dragged down it?

With all the noise she’s making and her blood still pumping in her ears, Rey doesn’t hear him approach. In fact, with Poe’s flair and the exhilaration of her physical exertion, she’d forgotten the simple detail that she’d be seeing _him_. Talking to _him_. The king’s proxy that she’s expected to have sex with any day now.

He clears his throat and Rey lifts her eyes to find him averting his. She looks down to realize her breasts had started to spill out the top of her loosened gown as she’d bent down to catch her breath. With crimson cheeks, she quickly pulls at the strings, tying them into a bow between her less than modestly-contained mounds.

He looks up from her dirty, shoeless feet with curiosity, his voice tense. “What are you doing here?”

She checks the rest of herself, readjusting her skirts before smoothing back her loose strands and looking up at him with as much confidence as she can muster. “Maz needs more apples.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Kylo pokes holes in her story. “And she sent you to get them? Barefoot?”

Shifting her weight and wiggling her toes in the dirt, her breath still not fully under control, Rey hesitates with her words. “Well, no. She sent Poe but he was…busy, so he asked me to come tell you.”

“I see.” Kylo looks like he understands more about Poe’s activities than she does. “Tell Maz I’ll bring two more barrels before supper.” He turns to leave, but something inside Rey craves more of his attention.

“She’s preserving the apples,” she calls out.

He doesn’t stop but answers with a “uh, huh” as he moves further away, picking up the handles on his wagon and walking down a row of apple trees.

Grasping for something she could say that would make him stay longer, keep talking to her, Rey thinks about the last time she saw him. She picks up her skirts and runs to catch up with him. “I watched you fight.”

He continues to push the wagon down the row, catching a glimpse at Rey’s bare legs before she lets her skirts fall back down. “I believe I have you to thank for that honor.” He sets the wagon down, throwing a condemning look her way as he walks around it and reaches in for a set of leather gloves. “I see you’re enjoying your new role as Snoke’s plaything.”

It feels like a blow to her gut, the insinuation that she is enjoying her gilded cage.

“You’re one to talk.” Kylo freezes while putting on his second gloves. “Like you’re not enjoying your part in all this.”

As he curls his fists, the leather gloves creak around his knuckles and Rey is grateful that the wagon sits between them. “My part?” He starts off quiet and then repeats himself so loud Rey actually jumps. “My part!?” Rey just looks at him stunned. “You insinuate that I enjoy forcing young girls to—“ He looks down into the wagon, bracing himself with his hands wrapped around the sides, like he might be sick.

Like throwing rocks at a hive of bees, Rey knows she shouldn’t say it, but her almost curiosity at his reaction forces the words out as she mumbles under her breath, “Marigold didn’t look like she needed much forcing.”

His head stays lowered while his eyes look up from under his hooded brows looking beaten. “I only do what has to be done to keep you—“ he struggles for the right word, chucking darkly when all he can come up with is “safe.”

Looking down at the grass between her toes, Rey instantly regrets her callous words, thinking about Snoke’s twisted use of compassion to keep his girls and proxies in line. “I’m sorry,” she shifts, “I saw what he does to you when we…misbehave.”

Stiffening uncomfortably at the mention of his scars, Kylo stills and takes a breath before grabbing his sheers and starting on the nearest tree. Rey stares at his back, remembering the crisscross of lines that covered it.

“I’m going to kill him some day.” She says it quietly, mostly to herself, as she walks around the wagon.

Kylo laughs once while his back is to her.

Squaring her shoulders, Rey speaks up. “If I could do what you could do, he’d already be dead.”

He tosses a clipping into the cart behind him and looks at an approaching Rey. “And so would you.”

Pulling a green leaf off one of the discarded branches, Rey stands behind Kylo and pulls the leave apart. “I don’t care.”

Facing her, he throws the sheers into the wagon with a thud and reaches for a small saw. “Really? And you don’t care about the rest of the girls and their welfare? Or are you too stupid to think that far ahead?”

It stays silent except for the grating of the saw through wood as Kylo removes a dead branch. Rey has no response. He’s right. Even if she could fight like a man, like Kylo, the guards are under strict instructions that if anything happens to the king, his garden should be raised to the ground.

“I hate feeling so week and helpless.” Rey drops the pieces of leaves and grabs a stick from inside the cart. “I wanted to run that sword right through him.” She snaps the twig, and Kylo looks at her as he carries the fallen branch to the wagon. “I was so jealous that day—the way you—it was—you were beautiful.” The words come rushing out before they are fully formed. Rey, gripping the sticks in each hand, tries to back step her words. “I mean, your fighting was beautiful.”

He chuckles darkly, the wagon creaking from the extra burden he lays upon it. “Beautiful isn’t usually a word used to describe an instrument of death.” Turning to the overhanging branches, Kylo starts to gather the low hanging fruit.

Grabbing an empty barrel from the cart, Rey steps closer so he can put the apples in. “That’s not true. People call weapons beautiful. Is not the craftsman an artist?”

That seemed to stump him as he only responds with a grumble. He continues to move through the branches in search of ripe fruit with Rey trailing behind him, her mind still replaying the way his muscles contracted as he swung the blade through the air.

“I wish I could do what you do.”

He tosses two more pieces of fruit into her arms. “No, you don’t.”

Abandoning his current tree, he walks around Rey to start on another. She turns on the spot, holding the barrel against her body with one arm while she lifts her hem to follow him. She waits to speak until she’s right under him as he reaches for a higher branch. “Yes, I do.” She levels him with her most forceful stare, thinking about how much she hates Snoke, hates being trapped, hates feeling helpless and vulnerable.

He looks down and studies her, both of his hands resting on a branch above her head. Rey can’t help but notice how much bigger he is than her, how his chest pulls at the linen of his tunic as he looms over her. She should be afraid of him, of how close he is to her, of what she’s seen him do. 

No fear shows on her face as Rey lets him look.

Understanding crosses his face as he releases one hand from the tree and holds her chin, his thumb and forefinger reaching to each joint of her jaw. She flinches and takes a step back at his forbidden touch, but he holds her firmly, bringing his face so close to hers that she can see her reflection in his icy gaze. “You want to take another man’s life? You want that blood on your hands?

“Yes” she clears her throat while he still pins her in his grasp, “I’m not as delicate as I look.”

It is blasphemous for a woman to say such a thing. Women are meek, gentle, demure; they are the embodiment of virtue, not pain and destruction. Oh, but how far from divine was she. Never had she felt an innate desire to be righteous. The darkness had pulled her just as much as the light, a constant struggle for dominion of her soul; and lately, the desire to end Snoke had her teetering on the edge of the abyss.

Still holding her, he looks into her eyes as if looking for confirmation, confirmation that she could carry through on her threats. His hand twitches and his expression flashes with fear as he finds what he’s looking for. “You have that look in your eyes.”

The hand on her face trails down across her throat until his fingers are splayed at the base of her neck, his thumb and fingers splayed across her exposed collarbones.

“What look?” She stays as still as possible with anticipation of what he might do next.

He watches his hand rise and fall with her increasing breaths. “The look of someone who’s going to get themselves killed.”

Rey observes his adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

His hand glides across her skin until his thumb traces the edge of her sleeve as it rests on her shoulder. If he were to gently nudge it, it would fall down her arm. Rey takes a side step to pull herself out of his reach but he just moves with her, keeping his hand on her.

“I could teach you.”

It’s hard to say what exactly he’s offering to teach her as his husky voice reverberates through her flesh.

Her eyes widen, and Rey swallows what feels like an unusual amount of saliva. “Teach me?” She squeaks out the words as he leans into her, forcing her to take another step back. Rey doesn’t know if she should press into him or run.

The fabric stays in place as his hand moves to squeeze her upper arm, his eyes still branding his name into her exposed flesh while his fingers bruise her skin. “You need a teacher.”

With her mouth agape, Rey stares back at him. Her voice wavers. “To—to teach me what exactly?”

The hand on her arm gathers the fabric of her sleeve between his fingers and tugs. Rey gasps. Her shoulder lays bare as the white gown gathers down her arm. “I can show you the ways of the sword.”

He leans his face into the curve of her neck and breathes her in.

The barrel starts to slide in her sweaty palm so Rey wraps her other hand around it to tighten her grip. “Why would you do that?”

His long nose forces goosebumps to prickle on her skin as it skims her neck. “I might as well put my talents to good use before you get us all killed.”

The heat of his breath against her skin makes her whimper as she ponders what talents he plans to share. The only rational thought that she can form in her overwhelmed mind is that she’s supposed to learn a skill, and a skill is being offered.

Rey’s eyes roll back into her head as Kylo blows gently behind her ear. She hums in approval, “I accept.” His fingers pull at a loose section of hair from the back of her braid and lay the loose curl over her chest. “When do we start?”

His lips finally make contact with her neck and Rey is so shocked at the sensation that she takes a step backwards, tripped over a tree root behind her and landing hard on her bottom.

Having removed himself from her space, Kylo looks down at the woman he made no attempt to catch. With her skirts disheveled around her, her dirty feet and bare legs revealed, Kylo smirks. “We start now.”

With apples strewn about the orchard floor, Rey looks up, shocked. Turning herself onto her hands and knees, rubbing at her now sore rump, Rey accosts him, “You did that on purpose!”

Leaning against the trunk of the tree, his arms folded and ankles crossed, Kylo surveys the mess. “Lesson one: Always be aware of your surroundings.”

Still on all fours, Rey scrambles to right the container, fury starting to burn through the embarrassment. It’s a good thing Maz plans to cook the apples as they are sure to bruise with the force with which Rey slams them into the barrel. “You tricked me.”

“Your enemy isn’t going to announce that they’re leading you into a trap.” He doesn’t help her pick up the apples. “You need to be constantly aware of your surroundings.” He reaches up to grab the overhanging branch with two hands and gives it a strong shake. Apples rain down on Rey, and she uses her hands to protect her head. “An attack could come from any side.”

Standing up on her two feet, Rey brushes the newly fallen leaves and apples from her skirt. She remembers her fallen sleeve and tugs it roughly back up. “I’ll be sure to remember that lesson next time I’m being ambushed by a grove of fruit trees.” She takes a deep breath and puts her hands on her hips as she looks up at Kylo.

“Pick those up.” He nods down at the ground littered with the now fresh batch of fallen apples and folds his arms.

“I will not.” Challenging him, Rey also folds her arms.

“You will.” He takes a step forward and Rey takes a startled step back, checking her footing this time. “And when you’re done with that, you’ll load that barrel into my wagon.” He takes another step toward her, but Rey holds her ground. “After that, you will run back to whatever hole you’ve hidden your stockings and shoes in, clean yourself up, and walk back into that castle without hurting yourself,” he nods at the small bandage on her thumb, “or uttering a word to anyone about our arrangement.”

With her fists clenched at her sides, Rey lifts her chin as he gets closer. “Every morning you will meet me here instead of taking your regular walk around the grounds.” It crosses Rey’s mind that he knows her routine. “You will run. Your stamina is pathetic.” He spits the last word in her face.

Furious at him for humiliating her, and with herself for letting him, Rey clenches her jaw while he continues.

“You will follow my instructions with exactness. You won’t question my methods. You will address me as Master Ren and only when you have been given a direct ques—"

Stomping her foot under the layers of gown, Rey interrupts. “I will do no such thing.”

He narrows his eyes at her.

“I’m not calling you Master Ren; I have enough masters.” Her voice starts to lose its bravado as she looks down at the ground. “I’ll do whatever you want, just—just not that.”

He grunts. “Fine. You can call me…Sir.”

He looks down at the ground and then back up to meet her eyes. “Daisy,” he says calmly, ”pick up the apples.”

They stand in a silent battle as Rey contemplates her next move. She doesn’t think he intends to demoralize her for his own amusement. He honestly looks like he wants to help her, refine her. She desperately wants him to teach her everything he knows, and if picking up the apples will get her that, then she’ll have to pick up the apples.

Slowly inhaling and rolling her shoulders back, Rey tries out the title. “Yes, Sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are enjoying this fic, I’d love if you gave another one of my works a read.
> 
> [ Yoga Is For Hippies ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23782273/chapters/57129187): Professional golfer Kylo Ren/Ben Solo finds a cute little yoga instructor to help him loosen his hips. Explicit. 23 Chapters. COMPLETE (My first fic!) 
> 
> [Stage Kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934285/chapters/60347938): High school theater kids AU set in the year 2000 with lots of teenage drama/angst. Explicit. 
> 
> [Recollection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26609530/chapters/64880041): Ben Solo has been missing, presumed dead, for over ten years. While shopping for her son's birthday dinner, Rey sees a ghost from her past. Explicit. (Calling all passengers for the Pain Train. Whoot-whoot)
> 
> Come say hello on Twitter! [HouseholdReylo](https://twitter.com/HouseholdReylo)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey puts her idle hands to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Infinitegalaxies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitegalaxies/pseuds/infinitegalaxies) (That’s right, we’re friends, no big deal.) made me a mood board for Vineyard. I wuv it. Thank you!
> 
>   
> Tag Warning: Non-Con  
> The non-con in this fic has been pretty light thus far, but this chapter contains much more forceful non-con. (See end note for more details.)

Rey wakes the next morning with an unfamiliar flutter inside her gut.

Eager. She’s eager.

For once, the day is full of possibility. It feels like the sparks that occasionally occur between the bed linens are stuck between her ribs, lighting her up from the inside. Rey reaches under the quits and rubs her hands over her abdomen, the surge of excitement flowing through her, jumping through her nightdress to tingle her fingertips.

Before, when she was on her own, something unnamed and deep inside her had compelled her to find food, find shelter, stay safe, but it felt more like she was being dragged along by her instincts, an unwilling participant in a body forced to exist.

Now, as she folds the blankets back and plants her feet to the cold floor, she has a purpose, and it’s thrilling.

*

“You seem happy this morning.” Rose brushes through her long black hair with a comb made of bone, a recent gift from his Majesty, with a curious smile.

“Oh.” Rey looks up briefly from tightening the lacing around her bust. “Just a lovely day.” She glances toward the window. “I’m looking forward to my walk.”

Sweeping her hair across her neck and down one shoulder, Rose lifts a suspicious eyebrow as she sets the comb on their shared side table and begins to plait her hair. “Yes, the grounds _are_ beautiful. Do you have a favorite view?”

“No,” Rey lets the tied lacings fall and smooths her hands down her front and over her hips. They’ve filled out, along with her breasts since she took up residence in the castle. “I just enjoy the fresh air and, um,” she swallows her secret, “physical exertion.”

“Right.” Rose studies Rey with narrowed eyes and a faint smile. “The physical exertion.” She picks up two pins from the table, sticking one between her teeth while she uses the other to secure her braid into a knot at the back of her neck. Her words come out a bit distorted with the obstruction. “I saw that you were a few pages along in the book.” Rose takes the second pin from her mouth and uses it to point toward the book of children’s tales she’s been helping Rey read.

Running her finger through her hair, Rey looks down at the book next to her bed. “Oh, yes. I tried a few on my own while you were—,” Rose picks up her comb and hands it to Rey, which she accepts with a blush. “Thank you so much for teaching me, Rose.” She pulls the luxury item through her hair. “It’s very kind of you.”

“Well, you never know when one of our little hobbies will come in useful.” Rose offers a wink before she steps away, making her usual morning rounds through the room.

*

The conversations and morning rituals pause when Maz’s keys turn the heavy locks on their cage. The murmur of voices resumes while she steps into the room and shuts the door behind her, setting her tea pot down on a table by the door as she surveys the room. She clears her throat as she steps further in, her small frame demanding their attention.

“Girls, before I escort you to breakfast, I wanted to inform you that The Order will be returning to the castle in a week’s time.” There is a collective moan that Maz quiets with a stern face. “The King will be hosting a feast for the esteemed Lords and Ladies of the land. They are coming to hear the heroic tales of The Order’s crusades to unite the king’s lands.” Rey senses a hint of derision in her tone. “There will be much for myself and the household staff to prepare. I don’t want any misbehavior from you lot.” A wrinkled finger strikes the air. “I don’t have time for it.” Maz lowers her hand, tacking on, “And you will all be fitted for new gowns. His majesty would like to present a _well-maintained garden_.” Maz isn’t one to roll her eyes, but the way she huffs while she smooths out her already pressed apron hints that she finds the terminology lacking.

Rey’s view of the twittering girls is obscured when Maz appears at the foot of her bed. “You.” She folds her hands and rests them on her apron as she lifts her chin. “I will not have you embarrass me again. Have you decided on a skill? Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, Daisy.”

Wringing her hands, Rey keeps her arrangement to learn a new skill to herself. She glances up from her twisted fingers, “No, Ma’am.”

“I see,” Maz shakes her head and purses her lips with an irritated sigh. “You will meet me in the kitchens after breakfast.”

While the waters ripple out from the stone that’s just dropped in her stomach, Rey looks at the ground and mutters, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Turning on her heel, Maz steps through the gathering of girls to Camellia who is making her bed. “I’ve been informed that you will be receiving two punishments for your behavior last night. One for failing to follow directions and a second for physical harm against a royal proxy.”

The room stills.

Camellia turns toward Maz, gripping her blanket and pulling it to the floor. Her eyes dart anxiously to the fireplace and then back to Maz.

“You new girls,” Marigold looks back from having the lacings on her dress pulled tight by Violet, an olive-skinned beauty with almond, gold flecked, brown eyes. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult?” Facing her reflection as she braces herself against the wall below the looking glass, Marigold’s voice leaves through a few grunts as the fabric pulls against her lunges. “You need to stop trying to fight it, and just relax.” Violet finishes with a final tug, tying off the lacings as Marigold pulls a select few curls out of her plaid to fall around her face. “You never know,” she pinches her cheeks and runs her tongue over her white teeth as she looks at Camellia’s reflection over her right shoulder, “you might even acquire a taste for it.”

“Marigold!” Rose reprimands as she steps toward the frightened girl. The rest of the room finds whatever they were doing suddenly very interesting. The chatter slowly picks back up as Rose wraps her arm around Camellia, wiping away fallen tears from the fair girl’s face with her free hand.

Maz steps toward the fireplace and lays the poker in the flames while Rose whispers words of comfort into Camellia’s thin blond hair. She takes the young girl’s hand with a squeeze and stands side by side with Camellia at her bed while Maz administers the contraceptive tea to everyone in the room.

Once everyone has had their tea and finished the morning’s preparations, they sit patiently and quietly on their beds. The room ripples with quiet anticipation as Maz sets the pot down with a clank on the stone hearth. She extends a pragmatic hand to Camellia. It’s apparent that Maz takes no pleasure in dealing out punishment, just another task laid on her already heavily burdened shoulders, but it has to be done.

Rose and Camellia walk to the center of the room, Rose giving her nervous companion a gentle nod of encouragement. She doesn’t let go of the shaking girl’s hand as Maz folds up Camellia’s sleeve and removes the bandage placed around her first welt, the bandage Rey wrapped around her fragile arm.

Maybe it’s because she feels responsible for the girl, or maybe it’s the extra spark in her chest, but before she knows it, Rey finds herself standing beside Rose, taking her free hand in her own. Both girls look over at Rey to which she responds with a weak, closed mouth smile.

Taking the steaming rod from the fire, Maz turns around to find that more girls have linked hands in a winding cluster around their comrade—even Marigold limply accepts the last girl’s hand as the chain reaches all the way to her bed. Their combined strength passes all the way to Camellia who lifts her chin a little higher.

Camellia hisses though her teeth as the hot metal presses against her paper-thin skin. Rey feels Roes’s hand squeeze hers tight, and she in turn squeezes the next girl’s hand as they try and disperse the pain of their friend’s punishment amongst themselves.

Together. They’re in this together.

*

“You’re late.” His weight leaves cracks in the dry earth as he kneels, dropping muddy leaves and small sticks into a bucket as he clears a blocked pathway from the ditch that bring water to the rows of trees and vines. He doesn’t look back at her as she stands behind him, her shadow darkening his work. He dismisses her with a shake of his head. “It was foolish to think you could ever learn discipline. You should leave.” Kylo stands, scooping up his bucket and working his way further up the line, a weak stream of water finding its way down the now cleared path.

Still catching her breath from her run to the vineyard, Rey picks up her skirts and follows with hurried steps after his long strides. “I’m not leaving, and I’m late because Maz made me peel potatoes.” Rey’s dress drops into the dust as she looks down at her reddened right hand, droplets of sweat rolling down her sore lower back. “I came as soon as I could.”

Kylo crouches down again in the shadow of Rey’s skirts to clear another blockage. “Consider our arrangement dissolved.”

“What? No!” Picking up her dress, Rey moves to straddle the miniature stream and stand in what would be his line of sight if his lose dark hair wasn’t veiling his face. Panic raises her voice in a shrill release. “You said you’d train me, and I’m here to be trained!” Kylo continues to work as Rey stomps her flimsy shoe and crosses her arms. “I never took you as someone who would go back on their—”

He flashes Rey a frightening scowl that shuts her up before looking back down at his task.

“Oh!” her anger deflates, “Your face!” Crouching down, Rey tilts her head to get a better look as he hides himself behind a raven waterfall. There is a deep red scratch, framed by two thinner, pinker, scratches, that starts on his forehead and travels all the way across the right of his face, ending at his neck.

“What happened?” Rey resists the urge to pull back his curtain of hair as it ripples, disturbed by a low grumble.

“It’s nothing.” He scoops the pile of muck he’s collected into his bucket as the water runs with more gusto toward the waiting trees.

“Camellia,” she whispers. A similarly blocked passageway opens in Rey’s mind as she watches him stand to his full height. She tilts her head to look up at him, a silhouette against the morning sun. “It was Camellia, wasn’t it?”

Her hand lifts to stroke alongside the tender marks with her thumb in the same way she’d soothed Camellia’s new wounds. Stopping with her hand hovering besides his face, Rey blushes, remembers herself, and drops her hand back by her side, the heat radiating from his skin still warming her fingertips. He momentarily watches her empty hand wipe against her skirt before steeling his features and stepping to the side to continue up the landscape.

“She was punished for it this morning.” Rey knows it was the wrong thing to say the moment it leaves her lips. His empty hand flexes at his side as he quickens his pace. “She’ll be ok though. Rose and I bandaged her up.” He does not respond.

Rey huffs against the tight bindings of her gown as she attempts to keep up behind him, cursing the layers of fabric restricting her steps. The gurgle of water pricks her ears as they move closer to the flowing stream. He stops to clear the last blockage as Rey looks down at the healed mark on her hand, running her thumb over the pink skin and thinking of when he’d helped her before. “Train me,” she drops her hands and looks up at his rounded back, pleading. “Help me so I can stop what he’s doing to Camellia, to all of us.”

The fabric of Kylo’s tunic shifts as his ridged back relaxes. He pauses his work to rub with one hand the muscles where his neck meets his back and then stretches his head side to side. She watches him grip the muscle and take a full breath, raising and lowering his shoulders.

He rubs his hand across his facial hair and down the front of his neck as he stands. “You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met.” He turns to face her, shaking his head and folding his arms. “You’d probably try and convince this stream,” he tosses his head over his shoulder, “to flow back up the hills if I left you here long enough.”

The stream behind him burbles in return, as if accepting the challenge.

“Is that a yes?” Rey lifts her eyebrows.

Kylo presses his lips, inhales through his nose, looks to the sky in a silent prayer, and then closes his eyes and nods with an exhale.

Bouncing on her toes and extending her fingers by her sides, Rey lights up. “Wonderful! What do we do first?” She turns around to follow Kylo as he passes by her without a glance and heads back down the hill. “Do you have a sword? Maybe I could get a broom handle or a good stick.” Rey starts to look around on the ground for something she might be able to use as a weapon as she skips after her teacher.

He stops at a wheel barrel at the edge of the orchard and folds his arms, his muscles accentuated with his fists beneath his biceps. Rey’s face is flushed with excitement and exertion as she shakes out her hands, ready for his instructions. Kylo picks up a shovel that’s sticking out of the full cart and extends it to Rey.

“Spread this manure around the base of all the trees.”

With the shovel’s removal, the mass in the back of the cart shifts, releasing the stench of the stables into the air.

Rey balks, a laugh rolling off her chest as she puts her hands on her hips.

He continues to hold the tool out to her, a twitch of his upper lip the only tell on his otherwise stoic face. He lifts a sharp brow as he repeats himself, slower this time, like she’s a dimwitted child. “Spread this manure around the base of all the trees.”

Her arms fall at her side, her shoulders losing their confidence, as she stares at the wooden handle, the reality of his command sinking in. “You want me to—,” she looks from the shovel to the stinking handcart.

“Yes.” He shoves the instrument into her chest and turns on his heel, leaving her with her mouth agape.

“But—but,” he’s getting further away as she fumbles. “I don’t have enough time,” she yells after him.

Not bothering to turn around as his heavy footsteps vibrate down the hill, he calls back, “You can finish this afternoon.”

Rey stands alone with her task. She’s no stranger to manual labor, it’s just—been a while. Interesting how easily she’s let herself grow accustom to the façade of being a “lady.”

She can do this. Pushing up her sleeves, Rey grips the wooden handle and shoves it into the steaming pile. She pushes down to try and leverage a scoop out of the wagon, but she’s overestimated her ability, burying the metal spade further than she can lift. Spreading her legs and squaring her shoulders, Rey gives herself a pep talk as she pushes down with all her might: if she’s going to murder Snoke someday, she needs to be strong enough to spread a little shit around.

The manure breaks with a pop, a storm of brown clumps raining down all over Rey as the shovel clanks to the ground.

Goddammit.

Manure covers Rey’s dress, her face, her lips. She stands paralyzed with her arms hovering in front of her as her brain catches up to her predicament. Spitting several times, Rey brushes the dried feces from her gown and hair. She’s immensely grateful that Kylo isn’t here. His lip would be twitching all over the place.

Horse’s ass.

*

It takes the entire afternoon hour to finish emptying the contents of her cart around the base of the trees. She’s cursed his name the entire time, complaining in panted breaths to no one but the flies that spreading manure doesn’t get her any closer to killing Snoke.

Still, she doesn’t quit, and after an entire row of trees had a rich brown pile spread around its base, Rey rests her shovel against her empty cart and wipes sweat from her brow with her forearm. Her muscles burn as she places her hands on her lower back and rolls her stiff shoulders back. There is a sense of accomplishment settling over her as she rests her hands on her hips and surveys her work.

He hasn’t shown himself since the morning and, as much as she hates to admit it, she’s anxious for his approval and praise. Picking up her skirts, Rey walks past rows of fruit trees, looking left and right until she finds him bracing a sapling against a wooden stake with twine.

Kylo doesn’t acknowledge her presence as she proudly stands before him, her chest puffed and hands on her hips as whisps of loose hair stick to her glistening neck. “I’m finished,” a smile breaks with her announcement.

Without looking back at her, he huffs, “Hardly.”

The pride in Rey’s shoulders drops. Her brows pull together as she drops her sore hands to the front of her skirts, tracing the fresh blisters.

As he turns to set the excess string in his wagon, Kylo glances at the filthy hem of her dress and then at her raw hands before meeting her eyes. “Tomorrow you’ll fertilize the next row.” Rey’s mouth falls open with a disheartened exhale. “And the day after that, you’ll fertilize the next row. You’ll use that shovel until every tree and plant in this orchard is covered in shit.”

She wants to stomp her foot. She wants to punch his stupidly large chest with her clenched fists. She wants to whine and complain that it’s not fair and that this menial task is a waste of time.

But he’s waiting for it, challenging her to refuse with a raised brow and folded arms, and she’s not going to give him the satisfaction of breaking after the first day.

Pulling her shoulder back, Rey lifts the skirts of her dress and dips her head, swallowing her pride as she grits out the words. “Yes, sir.”

*

The work in the vineyard continues. On the second day, Rey finds a pair of large, worn leather gloves with her supplies. They wait with a fresh cart of fertilizer and the shovel in a new row each morning. She works an hour with her shadow on her left, an hour with her shadow on her right, until the metal spade scrapes the last of the manure free of the wagon.

Kylo keeps his distance as she toils. He doesn’t watch her. He doesn’t inspect her work. The most she gets is a slight nod when he rolls her empty cart away.

The horn blows for the girls to head inside just as Rey gulps down water from a barrel in the kitchen. Her filthy gowns only serve to irritate an already vexed Maz, earning Rey a permanent afternoon spot peeling, chopping, and slicing every fruit and vegetable that the household eats.

Though her tone with Rey stays gruff, she suspects Maz is enjoying imparting her wealth of knowledge on a new student. “Maybe next week, I’ll teach you to process the hens.” Maz’s huge knife slams down to sever the newly butchered chicken from its neck as Rey is dismissed for the day.

A week of manual labor has Rey blinking very slowly while she sits in a tub of warm water in the middle of their quarters. She’s too tired to listen to Rose’s story as her fingernails are scrubbed clean, almost too tired to think. Definitely too tired to wonder if she’s been wearing his gloves all week, and if he has a second pair.

She closes her eyes and hums with contentment while Rose washes, combs, and braids her hair. Unable to focus on the way his sweaty, loose hair curls up at his neck.

Her bones ache with an exhausting satisfaction as she lies back in a clean shift on top of her linens, too close to sleep to offer her silent reparations for all the foul things she’d called him under her breath that day. That week.

While the rest of the girls finished cleaning and preparing themselves for bed, Rey rolls onto her side and tucks a newly calloused hand under her cheek, letting her lids close as the softness of her bed pulls her close to unconsciousness.

“Camellia and Daisy.”

There is a tug in Rey’s mind that she was supposed to do something, respond—but the allure of sleep is too intoxicating, dragging her under.

“Daisy.” A second voice uses that name, a softer tone, and it accompanies a small shake. Peeling open her eyes, Rey finds Rose hovering above her with a shadow of compassion across her face. “Sorry to wake you, but you’re being requested tonight.”

Requested? Rey sits up, rolling her sore neck. She just wants to sleep. What do they want from her now?

Maz opens Rey’s trunk and lays out her white silk robe, giving her the same challenging stare that Kylo had given her in the vineyard. After a week of preparing rooms and organizing extra food for the guests scheduled to arrive, Maz is not one to be trifled with.

Looking down at the smooth fabric, Rey is suddenly wide awake. How could she forget?

*

Camellia reaches for Rey’s hand as they follow Maz through the torch-lit, stone hallway, and squeezes it.

Looking down at the desperate grip, Rey is surprised by the strength of its dainty owner as her knuckles are pinched and rolled together. Rey looks up and is met with Camellia’s eyes, pleading for some reassurance—a promise or hope—that everything will be ok. Rey gives a waning smile and squeezes back, hoping that her eyes don’t reflect her own fears in the passing flames.

Impatience whispers in Rey’s ear as they cross the threshold into the ornate room. If only she could speed up time—skip to the end—drive the sword through Snoke’s beating heart—spare Camellia whatever awaits her—them.

But it’s not time yet. It’s time to be smart, to be patient, to keep her nose down until the time is right.

The pair of girls is left at the foot of the bed by a mumbling Maz, something about a pudding as she closes the door, sealing the girls in by themselves.

They continue to hold hands, anchoring each other down, or holding each other up—it’s hard to tell—when the door in the paneling swings open.

Ducking their heads, two proxies walk through: Kylo and an attractive young man with short, light brown hair. Kylo retains a few inches over his fellow, but the man is by no means small. His hazel eyes evaluate the girls as they shift to stand against the wall behind the desk, waiting for their master. Kylo keeps his eyes trained on his hands in front of him, one hand wrapped around the opposite wrist.

Rey’s only been in these chambers three times, and each time she’s entered more terrified than the last, but nothing has made Rey’s heart pound quite so loudly as the presence of two proxies. Thankfully, her imagination is interrupted as Snoke slams through the paneled door. He drops silverware and a pewter plate on his desk, roasted vegetables spilling off the sides and his already full wine goblet sloshing red droplets onto the placemat of documents. Rey has never seen the king without a thick coating of oil over his mannerisms and words. This Snoke is brittle and sharp.

“That one.” He picks up the dinner knife and points it at Camellia before flipping it in his palm and stabbing it into the breast of his Cornish hen. Lifting his two-pronged fork with the other hand, he directs it at Rey, “You. Sit,” and then motions at the carved chair in front of the bed. Standing over the table, Snoke aggressively rips into his prey, separating muscles and tendons from the bone like an experienced butcher.

There is no sign of familiarity or recognition from Kylo as they advance on the girls. He moves to the bed without meeting Rey’s eyes, kneeling to face the sea-eyed proxy who takes Camellia by the shoulders, turns her around—ripping her from Rey’s grasp—and presses her flat into the bed.

Rey covers her mouth, stifling a scream and taking a horrifying step back as Snoke addresses the room. He speaks around the flesh he’s ripped from the carcass as Camellia’s arms are pinned to the bed above her head by Kylo, and the unknown proxy lifts the pale pink silk to reveal the young girl’s trembling backside. “When a stubborn tree refuses to produce fruit, the lord of the vineyard may spare the destruction of said tree by grafting in a different branch.” Snoke looks over at Rey as he rips a drumstick from the bird and uses it to point. “We shall see if William here is a better match for our dear Camellia.” He tears flesh from the bone with yellow teeth, wiping his chin as he chews. “It may appear brutal, but the master knows what is best for his vineyard.”

Camellia’s cheek is pressed to the bedspread as she struggles under the strength of the two men. They aren’t unnecessarily cruel with her, but they keep her immobilized as they prepare her like a sheep to be sheered. Her eyes plead silently with Rey for help as William removes one of his hands from between her shoulders to unlace the front of his trousers. Kylo keeps her in place while William picks up a vessel from the ground and pours scented oil into the palm of his hand.

One of the bedposts keeps Rey standing as the man’s flaccid length is exposed. He takes himself in hand, working himself hard while tears drip across the bridge of Camellia’s nose.

The chair at Snoke’s desk scrapes across the wood and creaks as he seats himself, his thoughts elsewhere as he stares furiously at his plate instead of the scene playing out in front of him.

There has to be something she can do, some way to stop this. Rey looks frantically around the room for some solution to manifest itself, but all she’s met with are the aggressive scrapes of Snoke’s knife across his plate, the half-muffled sobs of Camellia, and the slap of skin against skin as the proxy makes quick work to arouse his slickened length.

Her search ends on the bed, on Kylo. His face is unshielded, his hair pulled half up in a bun. Rey catches his attention and her brows knit together in a wordless prayer. _Stop this._

His jaw tightens and his head barely shakes as he locks eyes with her, the answer clear. _No._

Rey’s hands vibrate at her sides. She balls them into fists to keep her entire body from shaking. The back of her neck and ears start to flame, a fire moving down her spine until it fills her belly. She’s cursed his name all week while her back ached and hands burned, but this, this is something different. How could he?

Kylo glances up at Snoke.

No, Rey follows his gaze, not Kylo. Snoke, she reminds herself.

Snoke sets his utensils down and sips from his wine. Rey watches as he dabs a few red drops from his lips. She wants to watch blood spill from those lips as the life drains from his shocked eyes.

A strangled cry turns Rey’s attention.

Her heart drops. Her eyes grow wide. She’s unable to stifle the gasp she takes as the proxy spreads Camellia and presses his length between her legs. Camellia has closed her eyes and buried her face into the linens, muffled whimpers escaping as Williams works his way deeper, branding her as Snoke’s property.

Swallowing the bile in the back of her throat, Rey’s eyes travel across Camellia’s trembling body and up her pale arms to where Kylo looms. He presses her arms into the bed, palms up, her fingernails making crescent dents into the flesh of her hand as she balls up her fingers.

He’s expressionless, a face carved from stone, his features masked as he stares down at the back of her head, her blond braid coiling around her neck as he waits indifferently for their task to be complete. The only hint of humanity Rey catches is the subtle way one thumb brushes against the blue tangle of veins in Camellia’s wrist.

William’s cheeks grow flushed as they all wait. Snoke even seems to have paused eating, wrapping his long, bony finger around his knife and holding it midair while the room echoes with muted weeping and grunted thrusting.

It’s obscene. And vile. And Rey wants to do things with that knife. But a voice whispers again, not yet. Not yet.

The bed groans as the proxy’s movements grow erratic. Rey releases the swaying bedpost and takes another step back.

Camellia’s cries turn to a wail as he slams harder into her. She squirms against the movement but Kylo slides his hands down her arms to hold her shoulders still. The proxy pumps inside her a few more forceful times before pulling out and finishing on her backside with a groan.

Everything freezes as the experience sinks into Rey’s skin, branding the grotesque moment deep into her flesh.

Rey watches the proxy roll his head back, then side to side, before standing straight and tucking himself away while his seed drips down the back of Camellia’s shaking thighs.

She lets out a final, knee-weakening sob of relief as Kylo releases her. The proxy pulls her robe back down, and Camellia tentatively pushes herself off the bed. Her red, blotchy eyes are almost swollen shut, but Rey still catches the shame that they carry. She’s ruined. Used. Soiled. Her maidenhood stripped away. She’s officially property of the king. There is no going back from this. She’ll never be the same Camellia.

“I do apologize, my dear,” Snoke’s demeanor has shifted. Whatever had been bothering him before has been momentarily soothed by his newest acquisition, and he begins again to cut his food with elegance. “For the drastic measures. But it is for the best. I’m confident we’ll be seeing delicious fruit from this new grafting in the future.” He slides his mouth around skin, meat, dripping fat. “You are both excused.”

The fair-eyed proxy slips through the panel quickly, letting it slam behind him.

Camellia wraps her arms around her stomach and keeps her head down as she steps toward the main door. Rey follows the pink robe with her eyes all the way until the heavy door clicks behind it. Her eyes flash to Kylo, who meets her with his dark gaze as he kneels in place on the bed.

“I trust that such barbaric measures won’t be necessary, my sweet Daisy.” Snoke licks at his greasy lips before sipping from his wine glass, a testing squint to his eyes. He sets the goblet down and holds the silverware over his plate. “You may begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Non-con  
> Camellia is raped by a third proxy (William), while Kylo helps holds her down. The entire scene is witnessed by Rey.
> 
> If you are enjoying this fic, I’d love if you gave another one of my works a read.
> 
> [ Yoga Is For Hippies ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23782273/chapters/57129187): Professional golfer Kylo Ren/Ben Solo finds a cute little yoga instructor to help him loosen his hips. Explicit. 23 Chapters. COMPLETE (My first fic!) 
> 
> [Stage Kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934285/chapters/60347938): High school theater kids AU set in the year 2000 with lots of teenage drama/angst. Explicit. 
> 
> [Recollection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26609530/chapters/64880041): Ben Solo has been missing, presumed dead, for over ten years. While shopping for her son's birthday dinner, Rey sees a ghost from her past. Explicit. (Calling all passengers for the Pain Train. Whoot-whoot)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that this fic is tagged for Non-Con.

When she was a little girl, a woman she assumes must have been her mother had brushed hair from her eyes and wiped away her tears. She doesn’t remember why she’d been crying, but she remembers how it felt to be comforted, a reassurance that everything would be okay. That ghost of a memory was all she had to soothe her nightmares, waking or asleep, throughout her life.

With weak legs, Rey takes a step toward the bed, reaching for that feeling of solace only to have it slip through her fingers like smoke.

The air in the room feels hot and thick, heavy with the scent of the proxy’s spend, Camellia’s fear, and Snoke’s expectation. It’s suffocating. Rey wishes that someone would cast the red drapes aside, open one of the windows, and fill the room with clean, summer air.

Kylo shifts his weight on the bed, moving to the side to make room for Rey in the center of the finely woven bedspread. He sits back on his heels, and Rey notices for the first time that his feet are bare. He must have removed his footwear before climbing onto the expensive linen.

She finds herself frozen at the edge of the bed staring at his feet, a part of him she’s never seen, and it somehow makes him seem more vulnerable and exposed.

He clears his throat and moves his head like he means to shake the hair from his eyes, even though his dark waves are pulled back.

Rey holds her white robe with trembling fingers and lifts a knee to crawl onto the bed. The bed groans with her added weight.

Glancing over her shoulder at Snoke, who continues to eat his meal with a more relaxed posture than when he’d first entered, Rey turns around and lies stiffly on her back. She grips the robe at her sides in an attempt to stop her hands from shaking, reminding herself to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth, the way Rose had taught her.

Kylo takes the hem of his tunic between his fingers and looks back at the king with a silent question. Their keeper nods, and Kylo turns back, closing his eyes in defeat as he crosses his arms and lifts the garment over his head. The silver scars on his muscular back shimmer in the candlelight as he twists to lay the garment on the edge of the bed. Rey quickly looks back up at the star-strewn ceiling as he turns back.

Her entire body tenses as he starts to move, positioning himself over her on all fours. He looms over her, his huge body closing in on Rey like walls in a small cave. She can’t bear to look up and meet his face, casting her eyes down across his naked chest, feeling claustrophobic as her steady breaths quicken.

Tight brows look down at her covered bosom as it rises and falls erratically. He lifts a hand toward her face and Rey closes her eyes and flinches to the side. They’re still screwed shut when a soft touch brushes loose hair out of her eyes.

She blinks up and meets his face for the first time since getting on the bed. The mask is pulled further down than she’s ever seen. For the first time, she can imagine what he must have looked like as a boy: red cheeks, bright eyes, ears that stuck out from unruly dark locks, a crooked smile.

But he doesn’t smile now. Sympathy and resolve fight for dominance on his features as he looks down at Rey. He moves his hand down to the bow holding Rey’s robe closed, but she reflexively grabs his wrist, stopping him before he can pull.

A frightened tear falls from each eye, down her temples, as she shakes her head no in a plea. She can’t do this, not yet.

Removing his hand and placing it next to her shoulder, Kylo lowers his face to her neck, his lose hair falling forward to tickle her collarbone. He speaks in barely a whisper, “You _need_ to do this. Show me you are strong enough to do this.”

Rey’s breath comes in quick and short, three inhales that shake her shoulders as his warm breath ghosts over her racing pulse.

“Try to relax. I promise I’ll take care of you.”

Her long, steady exhale comes out through rounded lips, more tears falling down the wet tracks as she nods the slightest amount in acknowledgement.

Kylo pushes himself all the way up, sitting again on his heels as he holds the bedpost at the foot of the bed and reaches down for the vessel of oil and a clean cloth from the floor. He pours a generous amount into his palm, rubbing his fingers through it as he drops the cloth by his side and sets the bottle back down.

With his dry hand, Kylo nudges Rey’s ridged legs apart, pushing the silk up the bed until he can kneel between them. He gently taps one knee and coaxes her to bend it until her foot is flat on the bed. Rey’s heart beats in her throat as the robe slips down her bent leg, exposing all her skin down to the crease where her inner thigh meets to her hips. She blushes as a few of her regrown dark hairs are revealed.

He pins her bent leg against his side as his slicked hand slides under the limp fabric to cup her sex. Rey squirms at the sensation, his warmth mixing with her own, but his grip keeps her knee tight against his hip.

Once she acclimates to his presence, Kylo begins to spread the oil through her folds. Rey closes her eyes, repeating his words in her mind as her most intimate parts are lubricated. She needs to do this. She’s strong enough to do this. The unshed tears in her eyes are commanded not to fall.

The tip of one finger finds her entrance. Rey instinctively tries to jump up the mattress but again, he keeps her from moving, holding her bent leg under his arm, his fingers pressing into the flesh above her knee.

Slowly, the finger slips inside her—to the first knuckle, then the second, and finally the third. It feels different than when she’d put her own fingers inside herself—he reaches deeper, touching parts of her she’s never touched herself. Her feminine walls flutter at the intrusion.

Unfurling her white knuckles, Rey releases the silk she’s been grasping at her sides and places her palms down on the mattress, continuing deep breaths as she accepts the new sensations.

This body is tough, it survives. She fertilized an entire orchard this week with these bones and muscles—she can take this, and whatever else is coming.

As his finger starts to move in and out, a calloused finger against delicate flesh, a knife scrapes across a plate. Rey’s eyes flash wide with realization. She shouldn’t just take it like a limp corpse, she has an audience, an audience that could still punish her, or Kylo, if he isn’t pleased with their performance.

The grotesque scene from moments ago flashes across Rey’s mind. There was a purpose to her front row seat, and she hates that Snoke’s threat worked. She doesn’t want burns on her wrists and her virginity ripped away while she struggles beneath forceful hands. As much as she sympathizes with Camellia’s instinct to fight back, her self-preservation is too ingrained. She needs to play along the best she can. An injury would only set her training—if she can even call it that at this point—back. It’s not time to fight, it’s time to comply.

His finger makes a wet noise as it slides out of her slickened cunt and then squelches again when he pushes two fingers inside. A gasp leaves her lips this time, her hands pressing into the bed as his fingers stretch her tight quim.

Her breathy noise reminds her of Marigold’s cries of pleasure from weeks prior. As his hands continue to prepare her, Rey experiments with her response. She presses her lips together and moans the way she still does over the rich food at the breakfast table.

Kylo’s hand stills and his eyes pop up at her, wide with surprise. Rey lifts a questioning brow, asking for his approval. Her teacher nods subtly.

Feeling a boost of confidence at his praise, Rey parts her dry lips and lets a heady whine fall out of her mouth as his fingers continue to move inside her.

She watches his lip twitch in response.

He leans forward again, bracing himself with his dry hand beside Rey’s head as the fingers inside her spread to stretch her open.

Pulling her lip between her bottom teeth, Rey flushes at having him so close and turns her head to the side.

As his fingers continue to move inside her, a practiced rhythm, Rey attempts a matching, sensuous pant. From glances out of the corner of her eye, Rey watches his pupils widen, darkening the surrounding amber, in response.

Curious, Rey turns back and catches his eyes flick down to watch her lick her dry lips. His head lulls forward, is eyes closing as he takes heavy breaths through is nose. The pad of his thumb moves through her damp curls to press on the knot at her apex. Rey shutters at the touch, a sound breaking from her throat that she hadn’t planned. He holds his fingers firm inside her cunt as he swirls his thumb around the nub.

Rey’s hips jump, her mouth parting in a cry as her entrance swallows his fingers deeper. Inside, he rubs against flesh that sparks at the touch, causing her legs to shake. The bent knee falls wide as her muscles forget their purpose.

Kylo stills, slowly fills his lungs, and then sits back on his legs.

Moisture drips down Rey’s intimate seam as Kylo removes his fingers. She can’t tell if it’s the oil or her own arousal.

Looking down at his fingers, and then her sex, Kylo hides his mild disbelief and wipes his hand on the cloth. He sets the rag down and then his eyes fall back across Rey’s body laid out before him. He reaches for the loose end of the bow holding her robe tight across her waist and then looks up at Rey’s face, asking. She bites her lips together and nods.

The silk bow collapses as Kylo slowly pulls the ribbon through the air. Rey watches his sun-worn hands slide the fabric off her stomach, exposing her entirely to him. Her nipples stand at peaks, her chest rises and falls with her shallow breaths. Rey lifts her eyes off her own body to look up at him.

Taking her all in, he looks. He traces her newly formed curves with his eyes as if she’s the first naked woman he’s ever seen, starting at her toes and ending on her face. She wants to look away, feeling self-conscious as a man looks upon her naked body for the first time in her life, but the quiet awe relaxing his features keeps her timid eyes on his.

He lifts his brows, asking again if she’s ready.

Rey takes a deep breath—she can do this—and nods.

Reaching down, Kylo uses one hand to undo and shove down his trousers. Rey tells herself that she wants to give him a semblance of privacy—and not that she’s scared to see his manhood—and stares at the ceiling. His face appears above hers, dark hair falling around his neck. He reaches down and lifts her fallen knee. Rey takes the cue and bends the other one as well, both feet planted on the bed.

He lowers himself on his elbows, his chest grazing her breasts, as he lines himself up. He threads a hand between them to spread her folds and place the head of his cock at her entrance. Rey hitches her breath and holds it as he pushes the tip inside her.

His head lowers to her neck again, his lips brushing against her skin as he whispers, “You are doing so well. I’ll make it quick. Just keep doing what you were doing.”

Rey bites her lower lip and ducks her head.

His biceps flex as he holds himself steady, his stomach muscles taut, as he hovers just above her. He rolls his hips, rocking his length into her.

Clenching her jaw, Rey grips the bedding and scrunches her eyes closed. He rocks again but isn’t able to move further inside.

“Daisy,” he whispers above her. She peaks open one eye, and then another. His eyes are softer than she’s ever seen them, his pupils retracting to make room for warm honey. He mouths the word “relax,” as his hand moves to stroke her upper arm with his thumb. He lifts the other hand, shifting his weight to the other elbow as taps the corner of her eye and then closes his eyes and taps his eyelid.

Watch his eyes.

Inhaling through her nose, Rey nods her understanding. She releases her hold on the bedding and tentatively lays her hands on either side of his shoulders and then locks in on his eyes. She can see all the different shades of brown, gold, and amber that swirl and ripple in the flickering candlelight. The colors are darker toward his pupils, his lashes are almost black, his brows create a protective covering for the delicate features below.

Rey alternates between focusing on one and then the other, memorizing them as he works his way inside her. He feels so large, and Rey worries that maybe her body won’t be able to accommodate all of him, but she watches his eyes, trusting, and eventually there is a sharp pinch and then their hips are flush, his cock buried entirely inside her.

Curiously, Rey breaks the eye contact, lifting her head to look down the gap between their bodies. His manly tuft mixes with hers at the point of their junction. She feels full in a way she’s never experienced, and her cunt feels strained, a slight burn as her body adjusts to the violation. But the pain is overshadowed by the strangeness of it, the idea that a part of him—Kylo Ren, the brute from the vineyard, the warrior from the courtyard—is inside her, joined with her as one.

Kylo looks down as well and then up with an apology tucked between the damp creases in his forehead.

Following his example, Rey soothes his concern with a gentle stroke on his upper arm. She meets his eyes and tries to convey that she’s okay with a simple, closed mouth smile.

Assured that Rey is well, Kylo begins to move. Rey watches the muscles in his chest, shoulders, arms, wrists, all flex and twitch below the skin as he starts a slow, shallow pace.

His thrusts push a gasp from her lips which reminds Rey again that she’s supposed to be putting on a show. Starting with a hum, then a whine, Rey becomes vocal.

A real smile seems to break across Kylo’s face as she gets bolder. She smiles back, letting her mouth fall open and arching her back the way Marigold had in his arms. There is a quick stab of jealousy that only spurs Rey on, hoping that her amateur performance doesn’t seem ridiculous in Kylo’s eyes.

The pace picks up and Kylo puts more force behind his thrusts. One particular intrusion feels like he reaches a new set of nerves. A genuine cry leaves Rey’s mouth that surprises both her and Kylo. She moves to cover her mouth but Kylo takes her wrist and pins it to the bed, stopping her. He slams into that spot again, and again, and again, each time Rey’s grunts and moans getting louder and unrestrained. It feels like a sledgehammer hitting against a wedge, she might split into several pieces at any moment but all she wants is for him to keep hitting that spot over and over and over.

Her free hand grips his shoulder, pressing her nails into his skin. A lock of hair comes loose from his half bun and falls across his face as he continues to restrain her wrist.

Kylo closes his eyes as their skin slaps together, lude noises matching the explicit act.

Something shifts inside her, a feeling teetering on the edge, ready to morph into something new.

Before it can manifest, Kylo pulls out and spills himself on her bare stomach with a hiss through clenched teeth, a silky, white bow tied below her navel. He pushes himself back into his knees, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he smooths back the misplaced hair. He looks down at Rey’s marked skin and reaches over for the cloth.

She averts her eyes from his slickened length and lets her head fall back, staring up at the ceiling as he cleans her stomach.

It’s over. The thing she’s been dreading for weeks has happened, yet, she doesn’t feel...shattered. There is a confusing disappointment that Rey shoves into the dark corners of her mind.

A loud clap splits the haze hanging over Rey. Two more claps follow as Snoke stands from his chair. Rey pushes herself onto her elbows, looking at Snoke for the first time since crawling onto the bed. He leers across her open robe and then down Kylo’s chest as the proxy tucks himself back into his trousers. Pulling the silk across her naked body, Rey sits up.

“No need for embarrassment, my pet.” Snoke picks up his glass, lifting it in a toast toward Rey with a sneer. “You have pleased your King.” He takes a sip, watching Rey with slippery eyes over the rim of his glass. Licking his lips, he sets the glass down, his eyes distracted by the papers strewn about his desk. He waves a ring-dressed hand. “You are dismissed.”

With his shirt in his hand, Kylo climbs off the bed. He glances once in Rey’s direction before stepping into a pair of unlaced boots and exiting.

Rey also leaves quickly, tying her robe and replacing her slippers as she eagerly leaves Snoke’s presence. The guard on the other side of the door nods under his helmet as she shuts the large door behind her. The events of the night swirl with the smoke from the hallway torches around Rey as she walks back to the dormitory.

The guards in front of her door grunt at Rey’s return. The shorter of the two turns around to unlock the door with the key sticking from one of the locks. As Rey walks through the door, he murmurs to his fellow, “That was the last one. Go inform Maz that the room is ready to be locked for the night. I’ll stand watch here.”

The door shuts behind Rey as she enters the dim room. All the lights are extinguished, but a few girls still shift in their beds. The moonlight filters in through the open window, illuminating a path down the center of the room and giving Rey enough light to find her bed. Her clean shift still lays across the mattress. Quickly, Rey slips the silk robe off and pulls the thin cotton over her bare skin.

A cool breeze blows from the open window—fresh air filling Rey’s lungs and brushing across her warmed skin. She lays on top of her linens and stares at the dark ceiling as she enjoys the reprieve from Snoke’s stifling quarters.

The bed next to her groans, its occupant propping herself up on one elbow.

“Daisy,” she whispered.

Rey turns her head, peering over the few items on their shared table to meet the shadowy figure.

Her voice is cautious and tender. “Are you ok?”

Rey hums a yes.

“Camellia came back quite upset,” she continues to keep her voice low. “If you want to talk about it, I’m happy to listen. We’ve all been through it.”

Turning on her side to face her friend, Rey tucks her hands under her cheek. “No, I’m okay.”

“Who, um,” Rey imagines Rose’s cheeks flushing under the cover of darkness, “was it? Camellia didn’t say much, she was so distraught.”

“William for Camellia and Kylo for me.”

Rose hums in response. She doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, but Rey can sense that there is something else coming and doesn’t roll away. “How did Snoke seem?”

“Oh.” Rey isn’t expecting that. “Um, he was—quite cross when he first came in. I thought, maybe, it was because of yesterday and Camellia, but it felt like something else plagued his thoughts.”

Rey could see Rose’s silhouette nod. She thinks they might be done with their little chat and rolls back onto her back, but then the voice comes again, even softer. “Daisy, I’m sorry this happened to you—all of it.”

“Thank you,” she whispers back, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m sorry it happened to you too.”

“It won’t be forever,” Rose suggests before lying back onto her pillow.

No, Rey thinks. It won’t be forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are enjoying this fic, I’d love if you gave another one of my works a read.
> 
> [ Yoga Is For Hippies ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23782273/chapters/57129187): Professional golfer Kylo Ren/Ben Solo finds a cute little yoga instructor to help him loosen his hips. Explicit. 23 Chapters. COMPLETE (My first fic!) 
> 
> [Stage Kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934285/chapters/60347938): High school theater kids AU set in the year 2000 with lots of teenage drama/angst. Explicit. 
> 
> [Recollection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26609530/chapters/64880041): Ben Solo has been missing, presumed dead, for over ten years. While shopping for her son's birthday dinner, Rey sees a ghost from her past. Explicit. (Calling all passengers for the Pain Train. Whoot-whoot)
> 
> Come say hello on Twitter! [HouseholdReylo](https://twitter.com/HouseholdReylo)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that this continues to be a non-con fic.

The tailor and his apprentices are unpacking gowns from a large trunk—carefully watched by two guards at the door—before Rey is even out of bed. She wakes to Maz laying a new gown across her linens.

Wincing at the ache between her legs, Rey sits up and runs a hand across the fine fabric, glancing up at Maz. “Are you sure this one is mine?”

Maz nods as she straightens the gown in question, looking it over with an appraising eye. “You have pleased his Highness.” She looks over at Rey, noticing the hair sticking every which way out of her braid, and frowns. “Best not to wear it until _after_ your morning walk. You have a habit of getting filthier than the pigs.”

While Maz walks away, Rey pulls the dress toward her, holding it up by the puffed sleeves. The gown is cream but covered in intricately woven gold embroidery that shimmers in the morning light spilling in from the window. Rey runs her fingers over the glass beads, pearls, and lace that are sewn into the bodice. She already feels that all her gowns are far too extravagant, but this ensemble is practically royal.

Brushing aside the thought, Rey sets the dress aside and untangles herself from the bed, swallowing down a grunt as she stands.

“It might help if you soak in some cool water.” Rose looks up from where she examines her new, yet not nearly as lavish, gown.

“Help with what?” Rey steps to her trunk, pulling out the simplest of her dresses.

Rose pauses unbuttoning the dress laid out on her bed and, lowering her voice a fraction, looks over her shoulder at Rey. “With the soreness.” When Rey continues to hold the confusion on her face, Rose ducks her head toward Rey’s pelvis, lifting her eyebrows so Rey will catch her meaning.

“Oh,” Rey blushes as she reaches for the silk robe still hanging at the foot of her bed to put it back into her trunk. “I’m sure I’ll be—Oh no!” The silk hangs over Rey’s hands as she examines a blood stain with nervous eyes. Maz is already cross with her for soiling her gowns, she isn’t sure what punishment will await her for bleeding on her robe.

Leaving her bedside, Rose steps next to Rey, a comforting hand laid on her arm. “Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s normal. The maids will clean it.”

Rey looks over with anxious eyes. “Will I bleed every time?”

Shaking her head, Rose adds an arm around Rey’s back in addition to the calming hold on her arm. “No, no. It’s just the first time, the blood and the—.” Rose ducks her head and Rey nods her understanding. “But cold water might help with the…irritation. We could have the maids fill a basin for you this morning.”

“Oh, no. That’s okay.” Rey balls up the silk and shakes her head with a pressed smile at Rose. “I’ll be fine.”

Rose takes the stained garment from Rey with a quick rub on her back and then steps away, handing it off to a maid collecting dirty clothing in a basket.

Once the girls are all dressed in their new gowns for the day, all except Rey, Maz clears her voice to gain their attention. “You will be permitted your morning time on the grounds after breakfast, but The Order is scheduled to arrive this afternoon. You will not be allowed outside this room unsupervised while they reside at the castle.” Maz turns on her heel, ordering the girls to line up in preparation to walk down to breakfast while they all groan at the unfortunate, but expected news.

The girls pair up, making a double line as they filter out of the room behind Maz, like chicks following a mother hen. Rey stands with Lilly on her right.

While they follow Maz, Rey leans right while keeping her head and voice down. “Can I ask a question?”

Lilly’s excited blue eyes glance over her shoulder at Rey. She keeps her voice equally low despite her intrigue. “Sure!”

Rey looks to the side, meeting the girl’s curious gaze. “Why are we not allowed out of our quarters while The Order resides at the castle?”

“Oh!” Lilly’s eyes widen. Before answering, she looks over her shoulder and then leans out of the line a bit to peer ahead. They descend the stairs as Lilly talks out of the side of her mouth. “Well,” Lilly eyes the back of Rose’s head at the front of Rey’s line, “it’s all due to Rose’s sister.”

Rey’s eyes flash to the black hair pulled back into several shiny braids and pinned at the nape of her neck. “Her sister?”

“Yes,” Lilly whispers excitedly, “it was before Iris and I arrived, but Violet told us that Rose’s sister was found _with_ an Order member.”

Iris, who is right behind Lilly, quickens her pace to lean forward and add with a dreamy sort of look, “They were in love.”

Looking over her shoulder, Rey looks eagerly from Iris to Lilly, caught in the web the two girls are spinning. “What happened to them?”

Lilly pales, and Iris’s smile falls as she steps back into place behind Lilly.

“Ultimate punishment?” Rey suggests. The girls solemnly nod.

Rey contemplates, already adding the star-crossed lover’s blood to the sins for which Snoke will pay, as they are led into a simple dining room off the kitchens. She turns back just before the lines split, probing further. “How?”

The girls follow Rey with their eyes from across the table as they each walk and then stand behind an empty chair. They confer with each other through a silent look. Lilly shakes her head no, but Iris pulls her braid to hang over one shoulder and pleads with hope-filled brown eyes. Lilly gives in with a shrug and and a sigh as Iris turns toward Rey. They all take their seats at Maz’s instruction and Iris leans across the table, glancing once toward the end before looking back at Rey and beginning in hushed tones. “No one actually knows what happened to them.”

Still cautious, Lilly also leans forward to listen as Iris continues. “There is a rumor that the sister was sold to a foreign traveler and that the Order member was sent to a mine in the furthest reaches of the kingdom.”

“They’re alive?” Rey gasps.

Lilly gives Iris a scolding glare. “That rumor is just a that, a rumor. And don’t let Rose hear you talk like that. There’s no reason to give her false hope.”

Taking a warm bun from the center of the table, Iris takes a bite and pouts. “There’s nothing wrong with hope.”

*

The sun has barely risen above the trees, but the vineyard is already hot. Her lungs still burn from the dry air she breathed as she ran to meet her teacher, and without a breeze to blow across her sweat soaked neck, the droplets of perspiration drip down the curve of Rey’s spine.

Walking up the center aisle separating fruit trees from vines, Rey looks left and right for Kylo.

She doesn’t know what to expect upon seeing him again. Painting a clear picture of the man had proven quite difficult. She’d used blacks and red to trace out the monster that pinned Camellia down; but then, with her, he’d been patient and kind, filling in the warm browns and golds of his reassuring eyes.

Taking a step back from the harsh, dark lines, she’d realized that the portrait was of a good man, but a good man buried beneath the shame of who he has been forced to become. He needs to be reminded of who he is underneath it all, who he was and who he could be.

Making her way all the way to the stream without finding Kylo, Rey sits on the same rock where he’d bandaged her hand. The hard surface, and her efforts to arrive as quickly as possible for her next lesson, have left Rey with a terrible ache between her legs. The water looks cool and tempting. Rey glances over her shoulders for any sign of the gardener only to find herself quite alone.

Discarding her shoes and stockings, Rey holds up her skirts and steps into the refreshing stream. She wiggles her toes against the hard pebbles and slick moss as the water rushes by. Taking a few tentative steps further in, Rey gathers more of her dress into her arms, wading in all the way past her knees. It feels magnificent.

Rey checks again that she truly is alone, then balls up her garments to her navel and crouches down into the water. She lets out a loud groan of relief, closing her eyes as the cold water rushes past her sore flesh.

A breeze finally rustles the leaves of the large tree, disturbing the patchwork of shadows that cross the stream as Rey luxuriates for several minutes in the restorative waters.

The hairs loose from her braid blow across her face as a deep voice interrupts her reverie.

“What are you doing?”

Startled, Rey stands, dropping part of her dress into the water. She glances over at a wide eyed Kylo Ren before gathering back up the layers of fabric. “Oh,” she releases a relieved exhale, “it’s you.” With her knees and everything below exposed, Rey watches her feet, taking careful steps as she makes her way back to the edge of the stream.

Water droplets fall from the fabric as Rey hunches over and wrings the wet sections of her dress. His shadow encompasses her as he steps closer, a roughness to his voice as he demands an answer, “What in God’s name were you doing?”

“What?” Rey looks up at his sour expression, unphased, and then over at the stream where she’d just stood. “Oh, that? Just cooling down.” She focuses back on another section of wet fabric.

“And you think it’s okay to just—,” he clears his throat, “expose yourself in broad daylight?”

Shaking the water from her hands, Rey straightens her back, closing one eye to shield from the sun peaking over his shoulder. “There’s never anyone around except you—,” she tilts her head and shrugs, “and you’ve seen all this now, yeah?” She motions quickly with one hand from her breast to her lower half and back up again before looking back down at her wet, wrinkled skirts with a frown.

Firmly grabs her upper arm, Kylo forces Rey to take a step toward him as he directs her attention back to the seriousness of his expression. “You need to be more careful. If someone had seen you, you’d be punished.”

Rey squirms in his hold, trying to release her arm from his grasp. “You’re not supposed to touch me out here,” she spits, her anger rising to meet his.

He presses his fingers harder into her flesh, leaning his head down so she can see the warning in his eyes. “How am I supposed to teach you anything if you’re dead.”

“Well, I’m not,” she barks up at him, wrenching herself from his grip.

“Not yet,” he yells back.

He takes a labored breath, trying to calm himself but the words still pass through a tightened jaw. “If you want to fight,” he straightens a fisted hand, “you need to learn caution.” He lays the words out as if they’re the most obvious of instructions. “Mastery of the sword—or any weapon—is knowing when _not_ to strike.”

Gathering her shoes and stockings, Rey huffs in annoyance, as she sits down on the large rock to put them back on. “I am being cautious.” Doesn’t he know how patient she’s been, last night and every moment she’s been in Snoke’s presence? She knows the time isn’t right to act. He’s treating her like a child.

Fully dressed, Rey tries to temper her irritation as she smooths out the wrinkles in her skirts and stands.

_He’s a good man. He wants to keep you safe._

“I was only in there,” she glances back at the stream, “to ease some of the discomfort from—,” she stares back up at him with all her dignity, “from last night.”

His face loses all expression at her words, his hard exterior reinforced by guilt. She wants to relish in it, let him wallow in whatever self-inflicted chastisement is starting to drain the color from his face, but she’s reminded by the swirl of golds and browns in the eyes of the man behind the mask.

“I’m fine,” she exhales, shaking her head at his stiff posture, “really.” She waves a hand in front of her, “I’m sure it’s just because it was the first time. Rose says it’s normal.”

His posture and face stay frozen.

Fine, he wants to stay masked.

Uninterested in trying to chip away at his armor, Rey strides past him down the hill. “The Order arrives this afternoon. I won’t be permitted to return until they leave.”

She stops to turn back up the hill at the statue of a man. “We’ll go ahead and call your admonition that I use caution our lesson for today, yes?”

He remains stoic and Rey rolls her eyes. “Good heavens, Kylo. I have a sword to master, a king to kill. I really don’t have the energy or time to convince you that you’re a good man and none of this is your fault. If you could figure that out on your own, that would be really helpful.”

With a swish of her skirts, Rey turns and leaves the gardener with her words.

*

Hundreds of candles line the walls on standing candelabras or atop hanging chandeliers, casting a burning glow against the tapestries and draperies hung from the stone walls. Coats of arms are proudly displayed across the room representing the prominent families in attendance: a ruby red fleur-de-lis on a white background, a yellow eagle on blue, and largest of all, the king’s coat of arms displayed prominently above the high table, a gold dragon on red.

The tables are crowded with tall, dripping candles, a pewter place setting for each guest, roasted fouls surrounded by vegetables and herbs, platters of dried fish, loaves of baked breads with molded butters, and plates filled with fruits and cheeses. The maids-turned-servers refill wine glasses and bring fresh tarts and pies from the kitchens as the guests converse happily amongst themselves.

Arranged in an incomplete rectangle, the lords and ladies, Order members, and royal advisors all have a view of the spit roasted pig dressed and on display on a table in the center of the room.

Adorned in their fine new gowns, the king’s vineyard sits to his right at the high table, just as much decorative accents as their artistic examples lined up against one wall of the great hall.

A musician plays a lute by the huge hearth at one end of the great hall while the king plucks a dark purple grape from the bunch on his plate, the three strapping proxies at attention a few feet behind his ornate chair. He surveys his assembly with a pleased smirk as he passes the fruit between his thin lips.

Gold fabric slides down his arm, revealing sickly pale flesh, as he snaps his bony fingers. A maid steps between Rey—whom Snoke insisted sit at his side, much to the chagrin of Marigold—and Snoke and refills his wine glass.

His majesty motions towards Rey’s glass with a silky grin, “More wine, my dear?”

Swallowing a mouthful of Maz’s stewed apples, Rey smiles politely at the king, lifting her glass and ducking her head in gratitude as the maid pours the wine.

“Are you enjoying the feast, my pet?” Snoke rakes his eyes over her gold embroidered gown, lingering on the tops of her breasts that spill over the lowered hem.

Rey sips from her goblet, feeling darkened brown eyes watching her from behind. “Yes, your grace. Very much.”

“Your majesty,” his lordship, Landonis Balthazar Calrissian, turns in his seat beside the king to beg his attention, “I was just telling her Ladyship, Mistress Holdo,” he sits back to motion at the women sitting beside him, “that you always bestow such generosity in allowing me to choose one of the fine accomplishments of your young ladies when I visit. Would such a generosity be too much to again request?“

The king sets down his wine, licking the alcohol from his lips, as he turns toward his guests. “I do believe such a request can be granted. Was there any particular piece that caught your eye, Lord Calrissian?”

“Yes, your majesty, I am quite fond of the sketch depicting the hand of God descending from a cloud as he removes the rib of Adam.” Calrissian places his fork in his mouth, chewing as he awaits the king’s response.

“And you, Lady Holdo,” with his fingers, Snoke rips a morsel of moist flesh from the pork on his plate, “do you find The Creation of Eve as compelling as Lord Calrissian?”

In a lavender, velvet gown, Amylin Holdo lifts a brow in consideration as she cuts through a baked pear. “It is a fine piece to be sure. Hs majesty has cultivated a fine crop of talented young ladies.” Demurely, she takes a small bite, wiping her mouth with the cloth in her lap before continuing. “I believe each of the pieces would make an excellent addition to any collection.”

Snoke narrows his eyes at the women while a smile spreads across his cracked features. “You sound like one of my advisors, Lady Holdo. Do not be afraid that you will offend me by expressing your honest opinions.”

The lady wipes again at the corners of her mouth, smiling politely, “Do not worry, your highness, my honest opinions always have a way of coming out in the end.” She meets the king’s stare with one of her own as she raises her glass in salute, a sly smile accompanying her nod. She sips her wine and then resumes cutting her food. “As for the sketch,” she uses her fork to point across at the girls, “I would be interested to hear from the artists themselves before forming any conclusions. Perhaps after our meal, you will allow us an opportunity to browse the works and mingle with their creators.”

Snokes looks back to evaluate his girls before turning back toward the Lady, a scowl forming as he eyes the black-clad Order members seated as far away from his precious fruit as possible. “I’m afraid I mustn’t allow such a thing.” He takes a bite from a halved fig, his sour expression lightened by the sweet fruit. “I prefer to keep an eye on all my flowers at once while the Order remains at the castle. I am a jealous man, and though the Order brings our kingdom great pride, they have a history of touching my things.”

“But if you would like to meet one of my treasures, I would be happy to oblige.” Snoke leans back in his chair, clearing the view between the younger and older women. “Daisy, my dear,” Snoke’s lips curl around his yellow teeth. “I would love to introduce you to her Ladyship Amylin Holdo.”

Lowering her head, Rey offers her respects to the noblewoman.

“You may look up, girl.” Holdo pushes her plate forward, folding her arms across the table and letting her fingers rest upon her forearms as she appraises Rey.

Raising her eyes, a large ruby, set in gold and prominently displayed on Lady Holdo’s aged but capable fingers, catches Rey’s eye. It is the same coloring and cut as the ruby set into the dagger she’d seen appear from beneath Rose’s skirts weeks before.

Her eyes widen at the sight as she looks up at Holdo’s calm, refined face. The woman tilts her head and evaluates Rey. “Did you make something for us to enjoy tonight, Daisy?”

While Rey had changed out of her wet dress and into her new gown, Maz had taken Rose aside and spoken hushed words while casting a quick glance in Rey’s direction. Maz turned to assist the other girls while Rose had dug through her trunk and pulled out a simple sketch of a rose. She handed it to Rey. “I think Maz quite enjoys having someone to which she can impart all of her kitchen secrets, but the king will be displeased if you don’t have something to present.” Rey was relieved to be excused from the showcase, having found laboring with her hands much more satisfying than the usual interests of young ladies.

“Yes, I sketched a rose.” Rey points over the tables toward the framed image.

Holdo hums, glancing over her shoulder in its direction. “I see.” She turns back, more interested in assessing Rey than the sketch. “And are you enjoying your new home in the castle? Is it to your liking? I am told you are the newest member of his majesty’s esteemed garden.”

She looks pointedly at Rey over the rim of her goblet, her ruby adorned hand holding the stem.

“Oh,” Rey sees Kylo stiffen out of the corner of her eye, his hands shifting from behind his back to the front, one hand gripping his flexed wrist. “Yes, there is more food than I could have ever dreamed,” she lets her eyes glance at the feast before her, “and the gowns are the finest I have ever laid hands on,” she places her palms, one above the other, under her breasts as she caresses the luxury apparel.

“Our crown is a benevolent ruler, for sure.” Holdo sets the wine down, exchanging it for a whole walnut and a copper nutcracker. She crushes the outer shell as she inquires further, “And the grounds, how do you find those?”

His Lordship Calrissian adds to the conversation, turning to Rey. “I do believe her ladyship is anxious to hear what you think of her former home.”

“Oh?” Rey folds her hands in her lap, sitting up straight as Maz taught her, while her attention shifts back to the older woman.

“Yes,” Holdo crushes a hazelnut. “Before our kingdom was united and strengthened under the hand of our sovereign,” she looks up to nod gratefully to her king, “I spent many youthful summers behind these walls. It was the home of a dear friend of mine.” Holdo’s face grows sullen, as she shakes her head side to side. “One that unfortunately, lost her way.”

Popping a freed nut between her teeth, Holdo brightens as she crushes it between her molars. “So yes, I’m curious to hear if you have grown to hold the same affection for this castle and its grounds as I do.”

Rey crosses her ankles, tucking them under her skirts, “Yes, I find them quite beautiful. I spend all the time granted us outside our rooms, walking the grounds.” 

“If I do recall,” Holdo rips the shell of a pistachio apart, discarding them into the pile of carnage she is collecting, “there is a beautiful stream near the vineyards. I would be so fortunate if you could accompany me to see it once more tomorrow.”

Frowning, Rey ducks her head, “You’ll excuse me, your ladyship, but we are not permitted on the grounds while the Order resides within the castle walls.” Rey looks up, casting a glance over at the fearsome group as one particularly ugly mercenary eyes her unabashedly.

Holdo follows Rey’s gaze to the table of Order members and then turns sweetly toward the king, her brows furrowed with a pout upon her lips. “Your highness,” she practically sings, “surely you will not deny me the companionship of this lovely flower as I retrace the footsteps of my youth.”

Snoke brings his wine glass to rest in front of his chest as he ponders the request. He looks back and forth between the noble persons and Rey. Reaching a decision, he sips from his glass and then shakes his head as he sets his goblet between a small pot of honey and a bowl of boiled eggs. “No,” he smacks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, soured from the tang of the wine, “I’m afraid I cannot fulfill such a request.”

“I understand, your grace,” Holdo lowers her pearl-decorated brow in apparent submission. “I would still love to hear dear young Daisy’s opinion on the sketch.” Holdo traces her eyes across Snoke and back to Rey. “Have you had a chance to admire the sketch we were discussing earlier, The Creation of Eve?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Rey nods.

“And what is your take on it,” Calrissian turns to add his attention on Rey. “Do you not believe the sketch to be most entrancing?”

“I do, your lordship, find it to be quite entrancing.” Rey takes a small sip of her wine. “I am trying to convince its creator to make the sketch into a series. It would be quite a delightsome panel, don’t you think?”

“And what would the other sketches entail, if I might inquire,” Snoke asks with his amused lips poised to devour an olive.

Rey clears her throat, setting the wine down and smoothing out the fabric on her lap. “I believe a depiction of Eve as the serpent tempts her, and then another of Eve as she makes her choice to bring about the birth of mankind.”

“You mean, the fall of mankind,” Calrissian corrects. Holdo’s eyes move from the nobleman back to Rey’s with an excited twinkle as she waits Rey’s response.

Lowering her head but looking up through her lashes, Rey’s confidence wavers. “I admit that my skill at reading—”

“You are learning to read?” Holdo excitedly interrupts.

“Yes, my Lady,” Rey grins at the woman, “One of the other girls is very kind and has been teaching me.”

Snoke chuckles and adds to Calrissian at his side, “The hobbies of young ladies.”

Rey hesitates in finishing her sentence, but Holdo prods her to continue, “Were you saying that you’ve been reading the scripts of the apostles?”

“Um, yes,” Rey shifts in her chair, “his highness has been gracious to supply us with many gifts. I have been reading a book of children’s stories that included the creation of man.” Rey forces a grateful smile on her face as she nods to the king, “and from my interpretation, I believe Eve partook of the fruit for the benefit of mankind.”

Holdo rests her chin on one hand, a finger lingering on her cheek as she watches Rey with a delighted smirk.

Calrissian continues, disbelieving, “You believe Eve _chose_ to disobey God, and be cast from the Garden on purpose?”

“I do believe that Mother Eve was quite aware of her choices and the consequences they would enact.”

With a snort, Holdo tears her gaze away from the shocked gentleman, shaking her head as she smiles into her wine glass and mumbles, “Remarkable.”

“Well,” Snoke sits up, pulling to straighten his robes, with a chuckle. “I do believe my interest in the piece is quite piqued, and I cannot bare to part with it. I will ask that you select another work, Lord Calrissian.”

Calrissian places a hand on his chest and nods to the king, “Of course, your majesty.”

The evening progresses as advisors, Order members, and noblepersons come to stand before the king and offer their congratulations over his military victories and compliments to the feast.

Proxies are released one at a time to sit at one of the side tables, and Rey watches as maids with shy smiles pile their plates high with food. Poe catches her watching and winks between a bite of apple tart, Williams grins up at a redheaded maid as she piles fresh rolls onto his plate, and Kylo, unsurprisingly, keeps his gaze firmly on his plate, mask on.

Starting to feel lightheaded from her overly full stomach, the never-ending cup of wine, and the warm room, Rey closes her eyes and rests her head on the back of the chair as the evening continues to buzz around her. She’s startled by the scrape of Snoke’s chair across the stone floor, and her eyes flash open.

“I do believe I’m almost ready to retire to my quarters,” he addresses his proxies who have all returned to their post behind the high table. “It has been an exhausting evening, but I would like to end the night with one last dessert. Kylo,” the aforementioned proxy steps forward. “Will you please escort Miss Daisy to my chambers? I do believe we have caught her mid-bloom, and I do not wish to miss a single pedal opening.”

Pushing her chair back, Rey stands. She starts to see stars float through her vision and grips the back of the chair to steady herself.

Snoke evaluates the waver of his maiden and then turns to Kylo. “You are granted permission to keep her on her feet as you guide her back.”

Kylo nods, releasing a hand from behind his back and holding it out before Rey.

She eyes it, Kylo’s hand.

By the stream, in the vineyard, on the huge bed—he’s touched her many times—yet, she’s rarely had the opportunity to touch him.

His hand hangs in the air, outstretched to her.

For a breath, Rey considers, before looking up into his eyes and taking it.

He turns and begins to pull her toward a side exit as Rey looks back over her shoulder at the crowded room. Snoke, beginning a round of farewells to his guests, is interrupted by an anxious advisor as he addresses a particularly plump noblewoman.

Rey trips over a raised stone in the floor and grips Kylo’s hand as she turns her attention toward the back of his head, missing the rest of the scene. He pauses, looking back once at their joined hands and then up at her before pushing open a door and pulling her through.

They don’t speak as they walk down a narrow passageway Rey has never been through, their shadows dancing across the walls in the torchlight.

Through several twist and turns, his hand never releasing hers, Rey finds herself in Snoke’s quarters, the paneled door slamming shut behind her. Kylo guides her to the bed, giving her swaying body a once over, as she gawks up at him.

“You should sit. You’ve had too much wine.”

At the foot of the bed, Rey licks her lips and slowly blinks up at Kylo. Then she looks down at their still joined hands. “We’re holding hands.”

At the attention, Kylo releases Rey’s hand, letting it fall at her side. “You should rest until he arrives.”

Holding up her warm hand, Rey tilts her head as she looks at her palm. She’d forgotten about the calluses. With a sigh, Rey plops onto the bed, letting herself fall back onto the comforter.

“I feel funny.”

Rey rolls her head to the side to watch Kylo pinch the bridge of his nose. “He shouldn’t have let you drink so much.”

She stares back up at the ceiling, “You’re wearing your mask tonight. I like you better without it.”

Kylo grunts.

Turning her head again, Rey inquires, “What?”

Kylo exhales a chuckle through his nose, a noise she’s never heard him make as he folds his arms at his chest. “Nothing,” he bows his head, closing his eyes as he shakes it and exhales, “you’re just—exhausting.”

Rey scoffs, mumbling under her breath, “You’re exhausting,” as she looks back up at the star-strewn ceiling. While she lets her vision go blurry, the stars getting lost in the blue sky, Rey sighs. “You don’t have to just stand there; you can sit on the bed.”

The floorboards creek as Kylo shifts his weight but doesn’t move any closer to her.

Slipping off her shoes, Rey lifts her head off the mattress as she wiggles up the bed in search of a pillow. “Look, I made a space for you to sit.”

After a moment of hesitation, Kylo makes his way to the edge of the bed with a resigned sigh and sits.

Feeling quite comfortable amongst the feather stuffed pillows, Rey lets her knees fall to the side as she closes her eyes. The tops of her fingers brush over her cheeks as she hums, “See, I’m not so scary.”

She thinks she hears a snort, but the wine overtakes her before she has a chance to think about it.

When she wakes, it’s to the sound of a creaking door. The candles have burned low, many out, or close to extinguishing as they flicker. The room is filled with more shadows and dark corners than Rey’s ever seen.

A snake’s whisper slithers through the room. “Forgive me, my dear. The night took an unexpected turn, and there were matters that required my attention.”

Snoke’s robes swish down the stairs, as the sleeping body by Rey’s side stirs. She looks down, noticing that her fingers are tangled in the mop of hair by her thigh and quickly releases the thick locks as she props herself on her elbows. At the sudden tug on his hair, Kylo pops up while Snoke takes the seat with carved hounds on the handles and flames climbing the stiles.

“Your highness, I apologize,” he starts with sleep still in his voice. “Your gracious feast and flowing wine—.”

The rings on his fingers reflect the few dots of light in the room as he waves Kylo’s apology away. “All is well, my son. We are all quite sedated from the stores of the kitchen and cellar, but I do hope you’ll both indulge me this last decadence for the evening.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Kylo lowers his head, his untamed curls falling across his eyes.

Taking a final swig from the goblet in his hand, Snoke sets the cup down and lets his head fall back until it rests against the back of the padded chair. He speaks with his eyes closed. “Our Daisy did such a wonderful job last night, I do believe she’s earned a reward.”

“Yes, your highness.”

Kylo, still sitting on the foot of the bed, turns to Rey over his shoulder. He places a hand on her stockinged ankle, holding it steady until she nods in the darkness.

The hand on her ankle slowly moves up her calf, rotating at the knee to move across the inside of her thigh as he takes her layers of skirts up with it.

His hand sits warm and heavy on her inner thigh, causing Rey to swallow.

The fears and trepidations from the previous evening feel muted, like they’re buried beneath a fathom of water, and Rey just wants to let herself float back and forth in the current, too tired to resist its pull.

His thumb traces circles against the sensitive skin of her thigh, stirring the remaining alcohol in Rey’s blood and causing a wave of dizziness that forces Rey to rest her head back on the bed.

The bed groans as Kylo carefully rolls between her legs, lifting her skirts the rest of the way with his other hand while his thumb sears a path of looping circles all the way to her apex.

A breathy sigh leaves her lips as his mouth retraces the burning path on her inner thigh, his fingertips pressing firmly into her creamy skin as he holds her in his grasp.

The world feels hazy but light, as if someone has momentarily taken the weight off her shoulders and Rey’s overtired body has begun to float. For a moment she considers that she never actually woke from her slumber, and that a dream is playing out before, or rather, below her.

Hot breath inches closer and closer to her core until a broad thumb moves through her crease, moving languidly but purposefully from the bottom to the top. A moan of surrender leaves Rey’s lips, as a second thumb joins the first, pulling her apart.

He blows a cool, light breath across the exposed nerves, inhales, and then huffs a hot cloud through an open mouth.

The contrast in sensations has Rey’s hips wiggling in anticipation. She cants her hips up once, encouraging him to continue as a needy squeak tries to pass her pressed lips.

Repositioning himself, Kylo lifts each of Rey’s thighs to rest over his shoulders, pushing the gown further up to pool in a puddle of twinkling gold around her waist.

She pulls her heavy head off the bed to look down as his tongue falls out of his mouth to lick a wet stripe from stern to bow.

The cry that leaves her mouth as her head falls back startles her own ears.

There may also be a soft chuckle from somewhere in the room, but Rey is too lost in the scorching pleasure between her legs to process it.

Kylo holds her thighs, her ass, pulling her close to him as he laps, teases, and licks his way all through Rey’s intimate folds.

The noises she makes, the way her back arches off the bed, her fingers twisting into his dark curls to keep her grounded, they all make her think that Marigold wasn’t faking anything.

This feels…incredible.

She feels like she could burst into a million pieces but that she mustn’t, because if she is just floating pieces of light, like the painted stars above her, how will Kylo continue to do whatever it is he’s doing to her?

While she clenches her eyes and mouth shut, trying to keep herself whole, Kylo’s tongue dips inside her entrance. Her body attempts to flail but he holds her still in arms that have been strengthened through battle and labor, and if she’s hurt him with the sudden tug of his hair, he gives no indication.

Once he appears to have quenched whatever thirst her cunt seems to have induced, Kylo looks up through loose tendrils of raven hair. The few candles still lit illuminate eyes that are as deep and dark as a well. Her liquids make his nose, mouth, and chin shine. Licking his lips, he whispers, his breath sneaking under her skirts and across her belly. “It’s okay to let go.”

Rey looks down across her heaving bosom, her bottom lip between her teeth. He silently offers the same promise as before: Relax. I’ll take care of you.

With her gaze held in his, Rey nods.

A hand around her thigh releases and two fingers press inside her, the ache from this morning having been replaced with a different kind of ache. She rolls her head to the side and then back, her eyes following the same path before shutting. A satisfied, guttural groan passes through her now relaxed mouth. The thick fingers pull out and then press deep inside. Rey’s groans again to accompany the movement.

“Do you like that, Daisy?” The voice isn’t Kylo’s, but she’s helpless to resist answering as his fingers continue to move in and out of her.

“Yes, I like it.”

“So,” the S lingers like a serpent—it must be the devil himself, come to tempt her—”would you like more?”

“Yes, please,” she begs.

Kylo’s fingers continue their rhythm as the other hand threads up her skirts to grip her bare hip. His tongue flicks out to gently graze across her clit. Anticipating her shudder, the hand on her hip tightens as her groans turn to cries.

Starting slow, but increasing in speed and pressure, Kylo licks, sucks, and circles the bud of nerves while his fingers press into her again and again.

_It’s okay to let go. I’ll take care of you._

His words play again in her mind as Rey struggles against her panting to prop herself back on her elbows and look down at the man between her legs.

The stallion. The warrior. The gardener.

He’s earned them, the titles, and her trust.

If she’s to accomplish her goal, she needs him—needs to trust him. Trust his methods. Trust the man he is behind the mask. Trust the man he is with the mask.

Letting go, Rey gives it to him, all of her trust. All of her.

Her eyes widen, her head hanging between her propped shoulders, as the pleasure Kylo inflicts cascades down her body. Instead of a cry, her mouth hangs silently open. Or maybe she’s lost the ability to hear because the flicker of the candles and the sound of her wet cunt being entered has disappeared.

She’s falling apart, millions of pieces scattered across the universe, only to be gathered back up, pulled together until she’s radiating heat, power, and light a hundred times more powerful than the being she’d been before.

Her core—no, her soul—glows, pulsating until it finds a steady equilibrium.

With the alcohol burned from her system, Rey pushes herself up to sitting on the bed. Where once a candle burned inside Rey’s chest, a fire rages.

Sitting himself up, Kylo wipes his mouth on his sleeve as he checks in with Rey. From the slight jerk back, and the way he studies her eyes back and forth, Rey guesses that the burning flames inside her are spilling from her eyes, as if Prometheus himself had touched them.

Snoke leans forward, his face pulled from darkness as candlelight casts distorting shadows across his face. “Did you enjoy that, my pet?”

Panning slowly, calmly, from Kylo over to Snoke, Rey lowers her head slightly, hiding her sneer in shadow, as the flames dance behind her narrowed eyes. “Yes, your majesty.”

Kylo hesitantly removes himself from the bed, cautious of the new energy rolling off Rey as she scoots to the edge herself.

She stands, the dress falling back over her legs, intricate gold embroidery licking up her form like the carvings on the back of Snoke’s chair. She lifts her skits and curtseys, bowing her head only to look back up while in the prostrated position to offer her gratitude. “I look forward to more of your benevolence, Sire.” 

Turning to leave, Rey smiles wickedly at Kylo before winking and sauntering past him toward the exit. She catches the shocked expression on his face and his glance back at Snoke to see if the king realizes the implications of the creature they’ve just created. The consequences to come.

Looking over her shoulder at Snoke before passing through the door, she knows that he does not. Kylo sees her for who she now is, what she was always meant to become, but Snoke smiles like a serpent who doesn’t realize he’s placed his head beneath her heel. Soon, she smiles innocently back at him before exiting, soon she will crush him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are enjoying this fic, I’d love if you gave another one of my works a read.
> 
> [ Yoga Is For Hippies ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23782273/chapters/57129187): Professional golfer Kylo Ren/Ben Solo finds a cute little yoga instructor to help him loosen his hips. Explicit. 23 Chapters. COMPLETE (My first fic!) 
> 
> [Stage Kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934285/chapters/60347938): High school theater kids AU set in the year 2000 with lots of teenage drama/angst. Explicit. 
> 
> [Recollection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26609530/chapters/64880041): Ben Solo has been missing, presumed dead, for over ten years. While shopping for her son's birthday dinner, Rey sees a ghost from her past. Explicit. (Calling all passengers for the Pain Train. Whoot-whoot)
> 
> Come say hello on Twitter! [HouseholdReylo](https://twitter.com/HouseholdReylo)


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